Monster
by Kayasuri-n
Summary: Six months can change a man's destiny. Dax was too late in rescuing Jak, and now the whole world needs to deal with the fallout. Please see note
1. Act 1, Chapter 1

_Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to Monster. I hope you enjoy the ride. Additional notes at the end for anyone who wants to read them._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Jak and Daxter. If I did... Well, take a look down._

**Monster**

**Arc the First: Rescue Chapter One**

_Mightily, doth the hero climb, nearing the summit of the barrier. With a flex of brawny thews, he heaves himself up to the barred gateway, and takes a mighty hold. With a powerful _heave_, he-_

A slip, a shriek, and a splash.

_-falls into a puddle of... I don't even want to know what._

Dax didn't even bother groaning. Luckily the puddle of oil, water, and other various, noxious smelling liquids had broken his fall. Luckily small animals could survive falls that would maim or kill a human.

_Luckily I'm used to this. Oh, my arm!_ He could move his feet, legs, tail, and left arm just fine; it was the right that dangled uselessly. He thought he remembered his paw catching in the ventilation grate for just a second too long, before he went splat. He felt carefully at his shoulder, and winced. _Dislocated._

"That," Sig said, "looked like it hurt."

"Oh, ye of massive understatement... no kidding." Dax sat up, and looked down at his shoulder. Then he turned and looked at Sig, who had gone back to keeping an eye on the street. Yeah, maybe not. Sig was great in a fight, but he couldn't see a person who casually broke bones turning around and helping fix a dislocated shoulder.

Down and dirty method it was, then. Dax managed to get to his feet, and over to the wall with a minimum of stumbling. He hesitated a few seconds, then slammed his right shoulder into the wall, and felt- and heard- the nasty pop that went along with a burst of pain.

"You alright there, cherry?"

"Peachy," he gasped. The pain was fading. Going numb, he supposed, or maybe his nerves were just over stimulated and couldn't take any more agony. "I don't think I'm getting in that way," he said, meaning the grate.

"No," Sig said, abandoning his post. He took the four steps necessary to get to Dax, then reached down and scooped him up. "Can you hang on, at least?"

"Hey, only my one arm's a problem," he said, and scrambled up onto Sig's shoulder. The armor there was spiky, and he wrapped his good arm around a spike. Useful, these. He'd have to convince Jak to invest in similar shoulder armor.

Sig grunted, then headed out. There was one thing about traveling with Sig, Dax thought. He might've been exposed to more metal-head hunts and bar fights than was healthy for anyone, but most people, including the KG, were wary of getting in the way of a six-foot-seven man who wore the skulls of his dead enemies as battle armor.

_Now, if I could only find the armor made out of _human_ skulls... Nah. Too gruesome. He probably has them made into candle holders or something..._

Dax let his tail sway in time with Sig's steps. The slums- at least, the dry slums- were a surprisingly clean place. Sure, the occupants got a little odorous- water cost money, after all- but there wasn't any food lying around to rot in the non-existent gutters. When he'd been on the streets 24-7, he'd gone up to where the people with money lived. Not only did they throw out perfectly good food, they left it in the streets to rot, and chased off anyone who came by to clean things up.

Now that he was hanging with Sig, though, he got regular meals and the assurance that stray cats and anyone looking to add a bit of meat to their diet would leave him alone.

"Where're we headed?" he asked. The answer itself didn't matter. As far as things went, he only cared where he was when he was working his way into the prison. He couldn't do that today, with his arm numb and unresponsive as it was. Tomorrow for sure.

His gut wanted to twist itself into knots, but he had two years, almost two and a half, of knowing failure. Still, if you tried enough times, you'd eventually end up succeeding.

"The Broken Arms," Sig said, naming a tavern that was down along the harbor. Dax grimaced; there were few places where he could talk, and the Arms wasn't one of them.

"Anything you want to hear specifically?" he asked.

Sig hummed, then shook his head. "It's all quiet on the western front," he said. "At least for what I'm hunting. Thought I'd help you out with your little quest. I know a guy who knows guys, and he's been hearing odd stories."

Dax pricked his ears forward. "Now that's what I like to hear, Sig m' man," he said, practically crowing. "If this pans out- man, I hope this pans out."

Sig flashed his pearly whites in a smile that had Dax feeling warm and fuzzy. It also made an approaching KG hesitate, then step aside. Some people just didn't appreciate potential mayhem.

Sig continued to saunter. A few KG slowed down when they caught sight of him. Dax wished he could see their faces; must've been a sight. _Yeah_, he thought, _he's walking around with a banned weapon... but do you really want to try taking it from him?_

Or, for that matter, try sending Sig to prison. That would've been an interesting encounter, except then Dax would've had two people to rescue, not just one.

He sighed, and shifted to a new position, one that took the last little bit of weight off his sore arm. Sig glanced over, but didn't alter stride any.

The Wastelander was a good ally, Dax decided. It'd been a good day when he'd chosen to run and hide behind Sig's foot, as compared to running and hiding beneath a dumpster in an alley. It didn't hurt that Sig was a soft-touch; he fed stray animals, tossed coins to children begging in the streets, and helped ottsels on hopeless missions without complaint.

Granted, he didn't help ottsels on hopeless missions for free, but it wasn't like he asked for a lot. Dax got into places where he wasn't supposed to be, a lot. Sometimes he overheard things. Sometimes he overheard things other people wanted to know. He told Sig, Sig told these other people, Sig got paid and Dax earned his keep.

He had a feeling, whatever Sig said otherwise, he'd be doing something like it this evening. The Broken Arms was always good for gossip, and knowing when someone was going to have a go at a warehouse, or where the KG was going to patrol heavily for the next week, was all useful for somebody.

There was a blockade up ahead, where the slums let out into the industrial section. Dax flattened his ears, and did his best to look like a dumb animal. Even Sig had to walk careful when going through a KG blockade.

He had to wonder, though, who they were trying to catch this time.

The blockades were always set up to catch _someone_, he knew. A few times he'd even snuck up to the KG running the things, and got into position to see the papers they were comparing everyone to. He'd warned a few people, when he did that, and they'd always seemed thankful, terrified, and determined. Not exactly the normal reaction from your average Joe Citizen.

Sig joined the disorderly group waiting to go through the blockade, and ended up behind a shorter, dark skinned man with his hair pulled back in long dreadlocks. Dax gave the guy a quick once over out of habit; then stopped, and gave the guy a second, more careful look.

There was no question about it; that was a gun tucked into the waistband of the man's pants, covered by his shirt tails. Dax leaned forward and sniffed, picking up Sig's normal scent of sweat and gun charges, but also the oddly sweet scent of plastic explosives that wafted off the guy ahead like perfume.

"What is it?" Sig asked, the words a low rumble, nearly incomprehensible.

"Explosives," Dax muttered back. "The guy must've rolled in it."

Sig grunted, and tilted his head very slightly. "Didn't that warehouse of KG weapons go up last night?" he asked.

Dax nodded. That was one reason he'd chosen to climb the prison wall and go through a grate; the whole city was up in arms, with the KG patrolling in greater numbers than usual. "Wanna bet we found the one responsible?" he asked.

"You found," Sig corrected. "But I think we've got us a problem."

Dax nodded, and sat up. He raked his good hand back over his neck, smoothing down fur that was on end from tension.

The people slowly shuffled their way along. Dax made sure to keep sniffing. No doubt about it; he could pick up the scent he'd learnt to associate with fear. It was strong enough that the scent of explosives was a little less obvious, at least to his nose.

Then it was the guy's turn. Sig was pretending oblivious; Dax, at least, could look as interested as he felt.

The guy stepped up to the KG who looked everyone over before letting them through.

"Name," the guard snapped.

"Jerald," the guy said. Dax tilted his ears, the better to hear them talking.

The guard- even behind the mask- gave 'Jerald' an obvious once over, then glanced down at the paper he kept checking. Dax tensed. For that matter, so did the guy.

The guard looked back up, and reached for his gun.

Sig was faster.

"Jerry!" he boomed, taking the single step forward necessary to get in reach of the guy, and wrap one massive arm around his shoulders. "That's you? Damn, man, where've you _been_?"

The KG gave an obvious double take at the sight of Sig, grinning in that vaguely feral way he had. Dax hid a smirk, and blinked innocently at the guard.

'Jerry' jumped, but apparently had more than a few brain cells in his head. "Taking care of my mother," he said. "She's been ill. Took a turn for the better last night though."

"That's good!" Sig turned his eye on the guard, grinning a little wider. "Ain't that good news? Old Mama Earline makes one mean meat stew," he said.

"Just don't ask what's in it," Jerry muttered, and turned his head to hide a grin.

The KG was really hesitating now, and Dax saw the moment he made his decision. "Keep moving," he snapped. "The both of you."

Dax smirked, and shifted to Sig's other shoulder, the better to inspect the guy they'd rescued.

Only after they'd stepped around the corner, and were out of sight as far as the blockade went, did the guy start shaking.

"Okay," Sig breathed, and helped the man prop himself up against an odd corner. "Dax, keep watch, would you?"

"No problem," Dax said, shifting back to his original spot. He'd keep watch, sure, but he'd also keep an ear pointed back at the conversation.

"Man," 'Jerry' breathed. "Thank you _so_ much."

"You blew up that warehouse last night, didn't you?" Sig asked.

Dax glanced back just in time to see Jerry blanch dead white. He heard Sig chuckle. "Nah, I'm not going to tell. But I'm betting _they_-" meaning the KG, "-want your head on a platter."

"Yeah," Jerry said. "Yeah, they kind of do."

Dax narrowed his eyes. "KG approaching," he said, softly enough his voice didn't carry beyond the three of them.

He could _feel_ the guy staring at him. "Did that rat just talk?"

_Intelligently, too._ "Yeah, I talk," he said. "Wanna maybe look less freaked out?"

Sig helped Jerry straighten up, and they started talking about the weather. Dax kept his attention on the guard walking past. The guard glanced over, but like every other KG in the city, didn't want to go _mano a mano_ with Sig and kept walking.

"Okay," he said. "I think we're good."

Sig nodded, then closed his hand around Jerry's bicep. "Why don't we talk somewhere a little more private?" he asked. "C'mon, I know a good place."

Dax grinned. Not only would Sig get all the information he could out of the guy, he'd probably buy them all a meal. Maybe drinks too, though the beer at the Broken Arms could strip paint off a Hellcat Cruiser.

* * *

The Broken Arms had all the ambiance of a wasteland metal-head's corpse, but it was also the one place the KG were guaranteed to never go, in force or not. The clientele was made up of criminals and their informants, and everyone went armed.

Except, of course, Dax. Not that he needed a weapon; everyone thought he was Sig's pet, and Sig commanded enough respect that even his pets were treated nice.

At least, no one tried to kill Dax for his fur, but considering the company, that was practically five-star treatment.

"So," Sig said, and took a gulp of the Arms' special beer. Dax didn't dare even try a sip; the fumes alone were enough to make him feel tipsy.

"So," Jerry- he hadn't given any other name- said in reply. He, quite sensibly, didn't try the beer.

"The warehouse?" Sig prompted, then interpreted the look Jerry gave to their surroundings. "Relax. No one'll tell on you. No one cares."

"Sure about that," Jerry asked. "People talk under torture."

_And why do you think torture's an option with this information?_ Dax wondered. He shook his head, and suffered a quick scratch behind the ears as one of the Broken Arms' waitresses walked by. Her nails were sharp and pointed, like miniature knives, and he couldn't think of anything more uncomfortable.

Well, maybe a bed studded with nails, but that was about it.

"Not these people," Sig said. "They don't listen in. Can't tell what you didn't hear. So, the warehouse?"

Jerry sniffed at his tankard of beer, and took a cautious sip. He immediately winced and put the tankard down. "Maybe I wanted to strike back against the baron," he said.

"John Q. Citizen doesn't have access to C4," Sig said. Dax had placed the explosives scent on the walk to the tavern, and quietly passed the information on. "Or dark eco charges."

Jerry frowned, then shook his head. "How'd you know that?"

"My friend has a great nose."

"No kidding," Jerry muttered, and eyed Dax suspiciously. Dax gave him an innocent look in return. "Look, me and a couple guys, we remember how this city used to be. And maybe we'd like it to go back that way, but the baron needs to go down."

"No argument," Sig said. "This group of yours, is it well known?"

Their new friend grinned, then apparently forgot himself and took a swig of beer. Once he'd finished choking, he licked his lips and shrugged. "Not well known to, ah, how'd you put it... John Q. Citizen, but the KG know us well enough."

"As?" Sig asked.

Jerry gave the two of them a surprisingly penetrating look. "Can't tell you that," he said. "But, look, if you're ever in a bind... Find your way to the underground."

"The underground? I don't think I know that street," Sig said.

"It's in the slums. Look, thanks for the save, and the drink, but I've got to go."

"Things to blow up?" Dax asked, very quietly.

Jerry glanced down. "Maybe, maybe not. Can't say."

"Fair enough," Sig said. "Pass on that I'm in the information business, a'right? Maybe me an' your friends could do us some business."

"I'll tell them," Jerry said, and nodded. "Be seeing you."

"Hopefully not at any checkpoints." Sig waited until Jerry was halfway across the room, before he leaned back in his chair and looked down at Dax. "Well."

Yeah. Dax nodded, but only after making sure there wasn't anyone paying attention to such a strangely intelligent animal.

Still, he had a feeling he'd be listening for references to any 'underground' in the near future. Heck, maybe he'd pick up information such as more explosions, things that would distract the KG and draw them away from the prison. That would only be a good thing.

He looked up when another person sat down at Sig's table.

The man was almost a direct contrast to Jerry, who'd been there only minutes previously. Where Jerry had been tall, with skin almost as dark as Sig's, and with long, black dreadlocks, this guy barely topped four-foot-nine, was so pale it was possible to see the veins under his skin, and completely bald. Jerry had been dressed in casual clothes, stuff that didn't stand out on any street but the rich ones. This guy wore black clothes, but had apparently tossed neon paint at his shirt and pants, leaving streaks of bright pink, green, and yellow in random patterns.

"Ghost," Sig said, and smiled. "Good to see you. Heard you had some trouble a few weeks back, was surprised when you got in touch."

"Sig." 'Ghost', as if that was his real name, didn't smile in return. "I did. Krew doesn't like hearing the word 'no', but he's distracted."

"Won't mention you to him."

The man- an albino, Dax realized- nodded, once. "You have interesting questions," he said.

"I've got interesting investigations," Sig replied.

Ghost looked down at Dax, his eyes (pink and red, Dax realized, and did his best not to flinch) narrowed. "And interesting company."

Dax gave his best dumb pet impression yet.

Ghost looked up at Sig. "You wanted to know about the prison."

"Yeah," Sig said. "I did. Something's up. Guy I know got taken in there."

Jak. Dax swallowed, as all the guilt he'd shoved to the side chose that exact moment to rush in and clobber him. He was just screwing up all over the place. If he hadn't chosen to pair up with Sig for safety, would he have his buddy out by now? Maybe. If he hadn't paired up with Sig, he could've spent all his time and energy focused on the problem, instead of helping the Wastelander out with his problems.

Ghost tapped a finger against the table, catching Dax's wandering attention. "I don't know much about that," he said. "The streets, sure. For the prison... You need the underground."

"That's the second time today I've heard that. Underground. What is it?"

Ghost almost smiled. "A movement for change. Disgruntled former KG, kamikaze young fools willing to make a statement, who knows what else. People who miss the old king, and are willing to do something about the asshole running the show."

"The old king's gone," Sig said.

Carefully, Dax realized. Sig knew something about the king- after four months helping the big guy ferret out information, Dax knew when someone was holding back on things they knew. It wasn't too much of a surprise, just... interesting.

"Rumor has it the prince isn't." Ghost leaned forward, lowering his already quiet voice. "He'd be five, almost six now, wouldn't he?"

Sig didn't change his non-existent expression. "I wouldn't know."

At that, the informant chuckled, and leaned back. "A child cannot rule," he said. "But he could sit on the throne. A figurehead might be better than Praxis... maybe."

"And what would the Underground have to do with all this?" Sig asked. "Rumors of a prince, the prison..." He raised an eyebrow.

"The Underground knows about the prisons. Most of their people end up there, for a short time. Sometimes longer. Sometimes... permanently." Ghost shrugged. "They're also the ones behind the prince rumors."

"And how would we find these fine, upstanding citizens?"

"I've heard their headquarters are somewhere in the slums," Ghost said. "Down a dead-end alley, one the KG somehow never patrol. Then again, there's never any trouble in that particular area, so why would they?"

Hadn't Ghost said there were former members of the KG in the Underground? Dax frowned, and narrowed his eyes. He had to wonder, exactly how 'former' some of the members were. After all, if the Underground had members in the guard, they could ensure their little hideaway wasn't found.

Or at least, make it very difficult for people to find it.

"Have you any idea just how many blind alleys there are in the slums?" Sig asked, with a reasonable amount of heat.

_I do,_ Dax thought, and grinned.

Sig must have noticed the expression, because he glanced down, and a little of his ire went away. "You have to have more for me than that!"

"They're a secretive bunch, the Underground," Ghost said, and sniffed. "I understand there is a door, with a knife crossed over a shield," he said. "Not very subtle, but there you have it."

Dax nodded. He knew that place. The door had no handle; he'd assumed, as he supposed everyone was supposed to, that the door no longer worked. He'd seen similar images painted on walls around the slums; there were always people being forced to wash them off. But no one had ever bothered with _that_ particular image, and now he knew why.

"They don't accept just anyone," Ghost warned. "And they don't talk to anyone that doesn't belong with them."

Sig hummed, and caressed the gun he'd left propped against the table beside him. "I'm sure I can find a way to be useful," he said.

Ghost looked down at the gun. "I'm sure you can. Now. All this talking is thirsty work. Don't you buy people like me drinks?"

Sig nodded, and glanced down at Dax. Dax nodded back, and slipped down onto the floor. Time to circle the room and listen to things he wasn't supposed to. He and Sig would talk more, later.

* * *

_Well, ladies and gents, welcome to Monster. This has been in the planning and writing stages for- nearly eight months now. The entire story is (mostly) plotted out, and I've got some chapters pre-written. I'll be posting every other Monday- so not the sixth, but the thirteenth of this month, for those curious. Pairings will happen, but won't be the focus of the story._

_Questions, comments, or encouragement, you know where the review button is. I'll be talking, so to speak, with you again on the sixteenth!_


	2. Act 1, Chapter 2

**Monster**

**Arc the First: Rescue Chapter Two**

Dax turned off the sink faucet, and scrambled up to balance on the tap. "That feels _so_ much better."

"You smell better, too." Sig stripped the last of his armor off, leaving him in shirtsleeves and bare arms. "Interesting night."

The ottsel nodded, thinking carefully. "I've heard talk about the Underground before, maybe," he said.

"So've I. Quiet people, but they're around. Huh." The giant Wastelander stretched out on the bed, one of the few pieces of furniture in the tiny apartment, and rested his head on his hands. "What've you heard?"

"Not a lot." Dax's bed was up on the countertop. Sig wasn't always careful about where he put his feet in the mornings, and stepping on anyone's tail once was more than enough.

"And?"

"And not a lot. Just... if something goes wrong, the spelling-challenged goons look for those people first." He scratched an ear. "Honest, I'd thought they were talking about people underground- y'know, in the sewers?"

"Too many metal-heads down there," Sig said, with the knowledge of someone routinely hired to go down and clean it out. "But I get you. About what I've heard, too."

"You want to listen for more information before approaching them?"

"Nah." Sig sniffed, and reached for the light switch. He flipped it, and the single light bulb went out. "You know where these people are?"

Dax smirked, and curled up on his own bed. "Sig, c'mon. This is me. I know where everything is."

Well, almost. But sometimes, accuracy had to take a back seat.

Hopefully, this Underground _would_ know about the prison. Then he'd be that much closer to rescuing Jak.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright, sunny, and _hot_. It was early in the day, and already sweltering. _And me in my fur, and Sig in his armor..._ Dax groaned, and tried to sprawl out a little more over Sig's shoulder. The KG had the worst of it, though, with every inch of skin covered. Unless their suits had air conditioning- and he bet they didn't- they'd have to rotate the patrols with more frequency than normal, to keep people from passing out with heat exhaustion.

He wasn't sure how he'd have handled that, if he was making an attempt at rescuing Jak. On the one hand, it'd be pretty busy, even in the prison, with people coming in and out more often than they normally did. Chaos was pretty good for infiltration work; the more attention people paid to the change in their routine, the less they noticed little things, like an orange shadow creeping along beside a wall.

On the other, injured hand, more people going in and out meant more chances for him to get unlucky and get noticed. People who had their schedules changed sometimes paid more attention to things, didn't have the chance to get lulled into complacency, the way they were over a longer shift.

He decided that he would've gone for it. Except for the little fact that his arm had been dislocated yesterday, and he could barely move it today. Even then, he might've tried. Jak had been in prison a long time, now.

He flattened his ears against his head, and tried not to think about it. He didn't _know_ anything bad had happened to Jak. Sure, being in prison was no walk in the park, but there were levels of bad. For all he knew Jak was on level one or two, as compared to level Hell.

Yeah. Level Hell gave him nightmares. If it'd been possible, he would've gone pale just thinking about it. As it was, he did feel a little faint.

Level Hell was what he called Praxis' quaint little 'Dark Warrior Program'. That'd been part of how he met Sig, actually. He'd heard Erol talking to some underling about it- little details, ones that wouldn't make him flinch _now_, but back then had sent him running. He'd gotten clumsy, and if not for Sig and his good nature... Eesh.

There was no way Jak would be part of that.

Right?

_No,_ Dax thought. _Everyone that's gone through there has been... well, someone who'd make Sig back off, if not worse. I wouldn't wish that torture on my worst enemy, but if anyone deserves a painful death, it's baby killers and psychotic murderers... Still._

Jak was the nicest, gentlest guy anywhere. Sure, it'd seemed that the guards had been waiting for him- bad thoughts _there_, no question- but no one knew Jak was an eco channeler. And so long as he wasn't exposed to green, red, blue, or yellow eco, no one _would_ know. If he somehow got exposed to dark eco, he'd get burned, like anyone.

Besides, everyone knew eco channelers died quicker than normal people when exposed to dark eco. It burnt them up from the inside out.

Dax shook his head, and looked around. They were just entering the dry slums, for the second time in two days. Oh joy of joys. It was one of the few places where, even in the heat, there was the full number of KG on patrol.

_What do they know that we don't? Or is it just paranoia? These people have the least to lose, after all._ He didn't know. He wished he did. At least with Sig, his curiosity was actually encouraged, though Sig had taught him that there was a time and a place for some questions.

_Heh... Samos tried to teach me restraint and subtly and I don't get it no matter how many times he smacks me one. But Sig gives me a _Look _and says maybe a word or two, and I pick it up in a matter of days. Funny how that works sometimes._

Sig glanced over at him, and lifted one eyebrow. Dax nodded in the right direction, and Sig grunted in reply.

Even in the slums, there were levels to the poverty. Close to the industrial sector, close to the prison, people might have been living on the edge, but they hadn't fallen off it yet. Their clothes might have holes, but they'd been patched. They might look at Dax, but they'd then look at Sig and keep their distance. Kids didn't have the dead-eyed, pinched face look of the truly starving.

But down the streets Sig was taking, things were a different matter.

Here, people wore clothes that were un-mended, or even more hole than cloth. They stared at Dax, and he knew they were calculating exactly how many meals they could get out of him, if they only caught him away from Sig. Everyone, from the children to the adults, was starving, and often their homes were only vaguely livable.

"Next alley over," Dax murmured, recognizing a particular billboard. Even in the slums- in the slums of the slums- Baron Praxis had peppered the place with billboards and sign posts displaying his personal seal. The sign posts also talked, in his voice, going over and over the various phrases- that he was the absolute ruler, his word was law... Dax tuned it out automatically by this point.

The only thing that made this billboard stand out was that something had bent it, as though a strut or two holding it up had broken.

Maybe that was on purpose. It wasn't anything people would normally pay attention to, either, which might make it the perfect landmark for finding the Underground.

Sig nodded, and leaned his gun up against one crumbling building. Then he crouched down and started fiddling with one of his boots. Pretending to tie up the laces, if Dax had things right.

Dax looked up and down the street, then leaned close to Sig's ear. "It's clear," he whispered.

"Good," Sig muttered back, stood up, and retrieved his gun. Then he sauntered down the alley in question.

It was short, compared to some of them, and ended in a dead end. Against one door, that was missing a handle, was the knife crossed over a wobbly circle that probably represented a shield.

"This is it?" Sig asked, and snorted. "Not very smart to leave your mark right out in the open, is it?"

Dax shrugged, and winced. Right, he wasn't supposed to move his right arm if he could help it. Ah, well, it didn't hurt too bad today, just didn't move when he told it to. "You could look at it as if it were clever," he offered. "Something so obvious clearly is just a diversion from wherever the real place is."

"Uh huh. Right. Pull the other one."

"I can't pull either of your legs, Sig, so try again."

Sig grinned, and opened his mouth to reply. Before he did, however, someone else spoke up.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Sig spun around with the reflexes of a trained warrior, bringing his gun up and pinning their stalker against the wall with the long barrel across the man's throat.

It took seconds, and was over before the other guy could react.

Dax ignored the man's hoarse spluttering, and looked him over. Dark red hair, practically brown, pulled back into thick dreads that hung almost to his shoulders. KG tattoos- well, Ghost had said there were former KG in the Underground ranks- and clothes that somehow, despite looking like the stuff seen on the street every day, suggested a uniform. Hard brown eyes and a mouth pulled back in a sneer; skin fish-belly pale.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked, and glanced over at Sig. "Maybe we got our hopeful new friends a present?"

Sig smirked, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. "Who are you?" he asked, letting up a little on the guy's throat.

The guy gave them both a death glare. "Your hopeful new friend," he rasped.

"Ah," Sig said, and shrugged the shoulder Dax wasn't sitting on. He pulled back, and shifted his gun so he was leaning on it. "How was I to know that? You snuck up on me."

The guy rubbed at his throat, and didn't reply. Not immediately, anyways. "How did you find this place?" he asked, his voice harsh with more than his recent near strangling.

"We know people who know people who say you know about the prison," Dax said. He had a feeling dancing around the subject with this guy would only piss him off- might as well start off with honesty. If it came to it, Sig could always bribe the guy.

Just where Sig got the money, Dax didn't know, and so far the big guy hadn't given him a straight answer. Though 'picking pockets' _was_ the most hilarious answer to date. Sig was many things, but quiet, unobtrusive, and light fingered sure as hell wasn't on the list.

"Hn." The guy- Dax decided, until otherwise named, he was now 'Sneaky'- folded his arms. "So you decided to lead the entire city here. Brilliant."

Dax sent a wide-eyed look towards the mouth of the alley. The empty mouth. "Ooh, did we? _So_ sorry- it must be hard to think with _all these people_ crowded around in here."

"Listen, rat-"

Sig caught Sneaky's hand, before he could finish drawing the knife. "Now, now," he said. "Let's play nice, yeah? Daxter here's a good friend of mine." Sig's glare finished the comment- _and you'd better not hurt him_.

What had Dax done to earn _that_ friendship? He _so_ owed Sig some juicy information to sell, pronto.

Sneaky glared up at Sig, but inclined his head very slightly. "What," he asked, sounding a little like he was working the words past a _nasty_ block in his throat, "do you want?"

Dax sighed, and flopped down on Sig's shoulder as dramatically as he could, sore shoulder or not. "I told you this already," he said. "Didn't you pay any attention? We want to talk to the Underground. About prison. Small enough words for you yet?"

Despite Sig's warning, Sneaky's hand crept back to the hilt of his knife.

* * *

Torn, as Sneaky was known to everyone else as, sat down behind the desk. It was a battered thing of wood, and looked as if it had been through more fights than Sig. It was also covered by a veritable blizzard of paperwork, though other people might not make the same comparison. It didn't snow much in Haven, certainly not the whiteouts Dax remembered from the Snowy Mountains.

He missed the old days. Back when the air was clear of smog, the biggest worry were the damn lurkers, and he could see over everyone's knees.

Okay, yes, Gol and Maia had been trying to destroy the world, but they'd _dealt_ with that.

He should've never pushed that button. Stupidest thing ever, including letting Jak talk him into visiting Misty Isle that one time.

Dax blinked, and forced his wandering attention back to the matter at hand. Torn sneered up at them, and very deliberately didn't offer them a seat.

Not that there were any other chairs in the room, but there was a double line of bunk beds. Sig could've sat on one of those.

"Why do you want to know about the prison?" Torn asked.

Apparently, the brief break didn't make his voice sound any better. Dax twitched an ear, then jumped- carefully- from Sig's shoulder onto Torn's desk. A few papers were knocked off by his landing.

The corner of Torn's eye twitched.

Dax planted his good hand on his hip, and hoped everyone ignored his dangling right arm. "You don't need t' know _why_ we wanta know."

Torn leaned forward, and smiled. It wasn't very nice. "Actually, yes, I do. Nothing's for free."

"Obviously."

"Right now, my price is information. Quid pro quo. You tell me why you want to know about the prison, I'll tell you what I can. Get it?"

Dax glanced back over his shoulder at Sig, but the Wastelander shook his head. This was Dax's mission; therefore, his show.

What could it hurt to tell? "A friend of mine got grabbed," he said, and twitched his ears. Were those footsteps coming up the alley? "I wanna get him out, but getting in's pretty hard. I don't even know where in the prison he is."

Torn narrowed his eyes, then looked up at something over Sig's shoulder. Dax glanced back for a look, and nearly hissed.

He _recognized_ the guy in the lead. Haggle-mouth, as Dax knew him, was a wharf rat down in the harbor, and he'd almost killed Dax a couple times. Not even for food or fur- for fun, near as Dax could tell.

That guy was a member of the Underground?

Shit.

Haggle-mouth spotted Dax at the same time, and grinned, showing off the source of his namesake. "Boss-man," he crowed. "Looks like we got us a rodent problem. Want me t' skin it for yeh?"

Dax had forgotten about Sig. Haggle-mouth had apparently not noticed or dismissed the Wastelander.

Haggle-mouth realized his mistake, fast. He was helped out by the little fact that Sig had one big hand wrapped around Haggle-mouth's neck, and held the wharf rat in the air with no problems. It did Dax's heart good, seeing Haggle-mouth's toes a good couple inches off the floor like that.

"That rodent there is my friend," Sig said, his eye narrowed. "Talk about skinning him again, and I'll skin _you_. Understand?"

Haggle-mouth choked out something vaguely affirmative, and Sig dropped the man. "Now," Sig said. "My friend and I were doing business with your leader. Go wait your turn."

Haggle-mouth scrambled back to stand near the door, the two nondescript figures- Dax couldn't even tell if they were men or women, and their clothes were just shades of bland- shuffling over to join him.

"Huh," Torn said, getting Sig and Dax's attention again. "Direct."

Sig's eyebrow twitched. "Problem with that?"

"Not really." Torn leaned back in his seat, and looked down at Dax again. "Alright, rat. I don't like you."

"Newsflash, I don't like you either."

The ex-guard grunted. "But, I'll help. Keep my ear to the ground, whatever. Tell me about your friend."

It couldn't be that easy. Torn was going to come back and hit them with- something- after Dax finished talking, or the next day or something. Still, information.

"Jak's about... Sig's shoulder, that tall, maybe? He's blond, though the roots of his hair are green. Blue eyes. He was wearing blue when he got grabbed, almost two and a half years ago."

Torn sat up and choked, all at once. "Two and a- and you're only trying to get him out _now_?"

"_No_! I been trying since th' first day! Only I... can't." Dax sighed, and spread his hands. "_Now_, I'm asking for help."

Torn grunted, and scratched at his hair line. "I see. Fine. I offer a trade. I find information, you and your friend help out the Underground. Deal?"

Dax glanced back at Sig. "Up to you," he said.

Sig narrowed his eye, and then nodded. "Sounds like fun."

Wastelanders. Why did they have to have such weird ideas of fun? "Looks like you've got a deal," Dax said. "Now, you mentioned information?"

"You're not going to like it."

"I don't like anything t' do with my friend locked up."

Torn actually hesitated. "I've heard that every prisoner has been shifted over to the Dark Warrior Program. You've heard about it?"

Dax nodded, even while his brain was still turning over the words 'every prisoner' and 'Dark Warrior Program'. That meant... But... "Jak's an eco channeler," he said, and stared at the map pinned up on the wall. His friend had been hit with dark eco. Jak channeled eco. Channelers burnt up from the inside out from dark eco.

His friend was... No!

Torn was talking. Saying something. Focus, Dax!

"Praxis has figured out a way to keep the channelers alive, what's left of them," Torn said. He sounded, even for him, grim. "He made the shift after one of his experiments proved successful. They've been tossing the result out at the metal-heads outside the walls."

"Result?" Sig asked. He pressed his fingers against Dax's back.

The ex-guard pressed his lips together. "None of my men have seen it, just that it's... inhuman, now. One of Praxis' experiments didn't die. It only started a few months ago, and I suppose he's looking to duplicate the results."

"Damn," Sig said.

"Exactly." Torn wrote quickly on a scrap of paper, then pushed it over. Sig picked it up, and raised both eyebrows this time. "That's my comm. code. Memorize it, don't program it into your comm. if you know what's good for you. I'll call you if I need you."

Sig handed the paper off to Dax, who immediately started going over the numbers. "You got anything you'd like me to listen for?" Sig asked. "I deal in information."

Torn looked up. "You're offering?"

"I'd expect payment."

"Figures. Anything you can tell me about the Guard would be nice, but don't bother with small fry stuff. I've got someone passing me the schedules real-time."

He did? How'd he manage that?

"Now," Torn said. "Get out. I've got a rebellion to run."

Sig nodded, and helped Dax clamber back onto his shoulder. "Be seeing you."

"Leave the rat at home, next time."

Dax snickered, then twiddled his fingers at the ex-Guard. "Sig an' I are a package deal," he said. "Put up with it."

The door closed on the sound of Torn snarling.

* * *

_As before, expect the next chapter in two weeks time, on the 27th of the month._

_So! I've started my internship- what that means is I work seven hours a day, or more, in a law office. I do all the grunt work- filing, making phone calls, running paperwork, getting coffee- and I still don't know if this is paid or not. If it is, I expect minimum wage. If it isn't, I expect to go even further into debt. Fun times!_

_What this means for _you_, my lovely readers, is that I don't have as much time to write as I want. I've got Monster, and another story- this one original, hopefully to find its way to the light of day sometime in my life, preferably eventually this year or the next- and somewhere in there I need to eat and sleep too._

_I do have chapters pre-written, and hopefully I'll keep a buffer between what I'm posting and what I'm working on. Fingers crossed._

_Disclaimer: I'm a law student, and I was a kid when Jak and Daxter first came out. Do the math. I don't own it._


	3. Act 1, Chapter 3

**Arc the First: Rescue Chapter Three**

Dax didn't pay much attention to anything over the next few days, just ran on automatic. It wasn't like there was anything big going on. Sig made the rounds of his informants, ran an errand for some cheap-ass that had some problems with some metal-heads that were getting too close to the wall.

Not for the first time, Dax had to wonder if those cheap-asses Sig worked for were employees of the Baron. Who else would get upset over metal-heads at the pumping station, or the drill platform, or the eco mine?

Well, maybe anyone with family who worked at those places. But would those people have the money necessary to hire someone like Sig?

He didn't think so.

Of course, by day five of Silent Underground Week, he'd reached the limit of his free ride.

"Hey, cherry." Sig picked him up off the counter, handling him like he was something delicate.

_Right, like I'm such a tough warrior..._ Sure, he said he was, but really? Dax knew he was just one step up from utterly useless.

"What's the game plan today?"

Sig hummed, and waited for Dax to get settled. Dax's arm was still giving him problems, but not so many. Only a few twinges, now and again.

"Something more on your line than mine," he said, and they set out. Sig's apartment was accessed through what was supposed to be a fire escape, the old hallway access having been blocked off by Precursors only knew what long ago. It made for an uncomfortable climb up steep, ladder-like stairs during bad weather, but at least they didn't have to crawl through a window.

"My line?" His line. Oh, right. "Who'm I spying on today, then?"

Sig shook his head, and strode down the street. Dax's eyes widened, and he looked around. Funny, there weren't too many people out and about yet. Him and Sig talked about missions that really, _really_ shouldn't be overheard by anyone while walking on the streets. What was so special about this one?

_The people, maybe? Damn. This is a big one, isn't it?_

He'd helped Sig out with a 'big one' once already. Big ones involved people not just conspiring to steal and cut their competitors' throats, but massive loss of life. The one he'd helped out with had involved some bastard of a yakkow-stealing-whore's-son, and the kids he'd taken, locked up in a basement, and... tortured. Eventually, they'd died, and been buried in the basement, and...

It was one of the reasons, or so Dax suspected, that the Guard didn't put more effort into dealing with Sig, beyond stepping aside and not trying to arrest him. Sure, Sig worked with- and for- thieves and smugglers and played bully boy and cracked more than a few skulls and yes, some of those skulls had belonged to no few Guards, but...

There were still people in the Guard who cared about the citizens of Haven. And Sig helped out, when the citizens were facing problems the Guard just weren't equipped to handle, anymore.

Apparently Sig was a mind reader, because he chose that moment to start talking. Not about the mission, either.

"It wasn't always like this," he said, practically growling. "Sure, there was the fighting against the metal-heads, but the people had options. They weren't stomped on, they weren't hopeless, and the Guard actually went looking for the damn scum bottom feeders that make everyone miserable and terrified."

"What happened, then?" Dax asked.

Every time he'd asked that question before, Sig had answered only one way.

He didn't disappoint this time, either.

"The king was disposed."

Dax sighed, and sprawled out on his friend's shoulder. Why had he expected anything else?

* * *

Sig stopped in a bar, one of the few places Dax could talk like the person he was. Dax didn't even know what it was called, and didn't care. It was small, with the least amount of lights a business could get away with in the industrial sector, and sold a liquid that _could_ intoxicate you- if you drank half your weight.

Or, in Dax's case, twice his weight.

"Alright," Sig said, sitting down in a booth at the back. There was a single waitress at this hour, serving the very few customers. Unlike most bars, this one was open during the day, doing business as a really, really bad restaurant.

She wandered over, with a particular sway of her hips that Dax had long ago learnt meant she wouldn't mind going to the back and, ah, _serving_ Sig more than just food. Since she was a particularly bland creature, with greasy hair straggling around her face, and a body that looked more like skin stretched over a skeleton, he didn't think Sig would take her up on the unspoken offer.

And he didn't. He ordered some eggs, a meal that only the worst places were able to mess up.

The waitress pouted, and left. Sig leaned forward on the table.

"You want to explain what's going on?"

"Krew's asked me to look into something," Sig said.

Krew? _That tub of lard's never good for anything but metal-head trophies,_ Dax thought. What had changed?

He must have raised his eyebrows or something, since Sig went on. "I've got a bad feeling about it. What I want you to do is sneak in. Apparently they're going to have a meeting sometime today."

"They?"

Sig made a face, and his optic nearly popped off. Dax had never seen what was under that thing, and to be perfectly honest, after this long, he didn't want to. He had a feeling it was there to replace a missing eye or something.

"A bunch of rich guys. Former nobles."

"Ah." Politics. Krew must be branching out. What fun.

"If Krew's involved, it's going to be ugly."

Dax considered all the things he'd been involved in since arriving in Haven. "I can handle it."

"I know you can, cherry, but this isn't our normal thing. Not even close."

"I can handle it."

Sig sat back, to the sounds of tortured booth springs groaning, and sighed. "Yeah. Alright."

"Give me what information you can," Dax suggested. "We'll go from there."

"You. You're the only one who can get up there."

"Up there?"

Sig named a place. Dax realized, a few seconds later, he'd sat down and Sig was staring at him like he'd started to froth at the mouth or something.

"You want me to sneak in _there_?"

"Now, cherry-"

"It's only home a' the second most important man in Haven! _And he's got guard dogs_!"

"Veger's up to something. Krew thinks it'll make him money. I'm... not so sure." Sig gave him a look, not one of his 'shut up and pay attention' looks, or a warning or anything... After a minute Dax deciphered it as a _worried_ look and just about fell over from shock again.

Sig had taught him one important thing about partnering with someone. You had to have trust. Trust that your partner had your back, trust that they could do what they said they'd do, trust that when the worst came, they'd make sure _they_ survived so they could turn around and haul _your_ fat out of the fire, if you'd lived that long.

Sig didn't think he could do this. Damn.

"What do you think it is, then?"

"Veger's involved in... Well, something I've been investigating. For a long, long time, cherry. Four years now."

_Oh yeah, his mysterious mission._ Dax nodded.

"And you think I'm going to hear something important here. Maybe important to Krew, but definitely important to you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Sig paused when the waitress swung by with his plate of eggs, and then helped himself to a forkful. "You don't have to do it."

Didn't he? After everything he'd gotten involved in- hell, he knew, he just _knew_ that what he saw, what he heard, what he helped Sig out with, wasn't even a _fraction_ of the things going on in Haven. And he'd made a difference. Not much of one, maybe, but at the _very_ least he'd helped get at least one sick beast off the streets and away from children.

And if Veger was involved, it was going to be big.

He felt his fur prickle at the thought, and a familiar clench in his gut.

Well, Samos always had said he was too nosy for his own good.

"I am so in you'll need a crowbar to get me out," he said.

Well, that got him another look, this one startled and thankful. Dax grinned, and snitched some of Sig's eggs.

* * *

And then came the boring portion of the day, the part where- after he'd gotten past the fence, past the guards, past the guard dogs, into Veger's palace of a house and into the ventilation system- he had to wait.

And wait.

And, yes, wait some more.

That was the one thing Dax admittedly didn't like about spying. He had to wait for the people he was spying on to do something worth spying on.

At least there were only a few places he thought Veger would dare have a meeting. Either his office- iffy, since it was Veger's office, and the man kept sensitive documents there- or one of the conference rooms Veger, for some reason, had _in his home_.

At one point Dax got bored enough to slip out of the vents and take a look through some of Veger's papers. It was all stuff with long, long words that made Dax's eyes cross, and referenced some sort of weapon's project. Failure rates and success rates and cost projections and budgets and...

Didn't this guy know he wasn't supposed to bring work home?

Unless he didn't work at the palace. In which case, smart of him.

Dax put everything back where he'd found it, and went back up into the vents.

It was late, late enough that his internal clock was starting to mumble about dinner and maybe sleep, when he _finally_ heard some activity that didn't involve cleaning spotless rooms.

"Please, this way." That was Veger. No one else had that particular blend of self-satisfied smarm, disdain for everyone else, and smug self-importance.

Dax moved very carefully, following the low murmur of small talk to the conference room. He should've figured. No one like Veger would let outsiders into a place like his office. Particularly not with work papers strewn all over his desk.

"Please, sit. Would you like any refreshments?"

"Thank you, Lord Veger, no."

Two other voices murmured that they were fine, thank you. Dax closed his eyes, the vent he was perched in at a bad angle to see faces. Two of the unknown people were male, one was female.

"As you like." A door closed- a servant leaving the room, maybe? "Have you given my proposal any thought?"

"We have." The woman, this time. "It is... interesting."

"I thought you would see it that way."

"The thing is-" One of the men; Dax wondered why he'd paused. "The thing is, Veger, we are the ones taking all the risk. Not you."

"I am taking plenty of risk."

"Oh?"

"Indeed."

Heh, yeah right. Dax bit his lip, and reminded himself to stay _still_. There was a lot of dust in the vents, and the last thing he wanted to do was stir it up and start sneezing.

"And your motives are questionable." The woman, this time. She sounded angry, but cold.

"And what have my motives to do with anything?"

"Everything."

"You supported Baron Praxis when he replaced the traitor. Why do you wish to change that support?"

Veger chuckled. "Praxis was better than the traitor, but can you honestly say he is good for... our city?"

For the rich folk, Veger meant. Dax stifled a growl.

"Your profits have fallen," the woman said. Suddenly, she sounded amused. "It takes so little to break what loyalty you have?"

"That is hardly the reason."

"Really?"

One of the men cleared his throat. "And your... projects, with the baron?"

"Certain projects have shown a reasonable success."

"_One_ weapon is hardly a reasonable success!"

"And yet the metal-head forces have been pushed back, this past month."

"It is of no consequence. Veger, you are asking for a very great deal of trust, with little return."

Dax bit his lip. If they didn't stop going in circles...

"Besides," the woman said. "You haven't even found that damn child. Until then, we cannot support you."

"_I told you never to mention the brat_!"

The chill in her voice could have frozen lava. "I do not answer to you."

The door slammed, and Dax decided it was a good time for him to rejoin with Sig. He had some pretty interesting things to tell his friend, anyways.

* * *

_Well, that's chapter three. Once more, I hope you enjoyed. Drop me a line, let me know what you think._

_And in continuation of my internship, mentioned two weeks ago... I'm working eight hours a day, and I'm not being paid for it. It wouldn't be so bad, but sometimes clients (or the other side- did I mention this is a LAW internship?) are IDIOTS. Word to the wise- if you're going to do something stupid, warn your lawyer first. And if your lawyer tells you to STOP CONTACTING THE OTHER PERSON, then it'd be a good idea to STOP._

_Like I said, word to the wise. Follow the above helpful hint, and should you ever get into legal difficulties of any kind, your lawyer won't bill you for stupid stuff unless he's a dick. Which happens._

_Next post on March 12._


	4. Act 1, Chapter 4

**Arc the First: Rescue Chapter Four**

The room was darker than the inside of a metal-head, but the damn chirping sound just wouldn't _stop_. Dax clawed his way out of sleep- literally; he'd gotten tangled in his blankets- and stumbled his way over to the communicator. The little red light was blinking for an incoming call.

Who would call at this hour? Dax didn't even need a clock; his body knew it was still several hours before dawn, right at the time where it was both very, very late at night and very, very early in the morning.

If he didn't answer the comm., whoever it was would probably call back. If he answered the comm. the damn thing would shut up.

Now he just had to remember what button was the 'answer' key.

It turned out there was only one button. He pushed it, and saw an ugly sight.

"Y'know," he said, his voice rasping a little from his dry throat. "I think I had a nightmare about this before."

"Shut up, rat. Where's the Wastelander?"

"Sleeping. Like sane people."

"Rebellions aren't sane. How soon can he wake up?"

Depending on how long it took Dax to get an ice cube... "Two or three minutes, why?"

"I've got a situation."

Dax felt himself wilt, literally wilt, while the crazy rebellion leader laid out the 'situation'. More like a cluster-fuck and a half.

There was a guy. Medium importance in-so-far as Baron Praxis' operations were, pretty high up in the Rebellion. He was currently trapped someplace- the Drill Platform, wherever that was- by metal-heads. And while Torn wasn't too concerned- apparently this guy was paranoid, and then some- the guy, Vin, had been calling every five seconds screaming about things trying to eat him.

Torn didn't want the KG to come on Vin while he was in this state, because the moment they said 'hello' he'd spill his guts.

"And you want Sig to go, why?" Dax asked, to tired for a properly snarky comment.

"He's got experience with this sort of thing."

"Rescue missions?" Since when?

"Stomping metal-heads. Unless you lied."

"Huh, what? No. No, Sig's good at that. Remember your part of the deal."

"I have some information. Get Vin to safety, then come by and talk. You're not going to like it."

Torn switched his end of the conversation off, and Dax scowled at where the comm. screen had been, just seconds before. Figured.

_Not even any coffee, and already there's bad news? Bah._ Time to amuse himself with ice cubes, then. It'd probably be the only amusement the day offered.

Dax looked over at where Sig lay snoring in dreamland, then at the tiny ice box. And grinned.

* * *

"That wasn't funny."

"I beg to differ, I thought it was hilarious."

Sig stepped up to the counter, and placed his order. The tiny coffee shop was one of the few businesses open at this hour- which was still too early for most sane people- and while Dax was getting a few odd looks, most everyone seemed to be putting the talking rat down to sleep deprivation.

The Wastelander handed over some credits without counting, and Dax noticed that the scrawny guy behind the counter short changed them. Eh, judging by the hollows in his cheeks, the kid needed every little bit he could get. Dax wasn't going to blow any whistles.

"You're a sadistic little shit, you know that?"

"Thanks, big guy, I try."

The kid looked from Sig to Dax, and then handed over two coffees to go. Sig handed the first cup- a small, but compared to Dax it was huge- to Dax, then picked up his own. Dax balanced his java on Sig's shoulder armor, making use of the spikes.

After the first sip, he felt much more human. Metaphorically, of course.

He had practice balancing a cup of hot liquid on a swaying shoulder by now, and managed to finish his drink without dumping it all over Sig. His friend took the empty cup, and winged it into one of the few trash bins set out on the streets for just such things.

_What a guy. Will happily kill anything in his way, but he'd rather cut off a leg than litter..._ Dax grinned, and rubbed at his right shoulder. "So," he said. "Drill platform?"

"I've been out there, now and again. Lots of KG, but they can't handle the metal-heads all the time. They swarm, you know. The little buggers, that's fine, but sometimes they get nest tenders, and eggs. That's when I get called in."

Dax nodded. "They're attracted to the eco?" he asked.

"And the food." Now Sig sounded grim- well, grimmer than normal. "It's a good day when they've got enough warning to evacuate."

Which meant there might be dismembered limbs lying around and a lot of blood. Ick. "How do they get the employees to work there?" he asked.

"It's mostly automated, and the building the humans work in could withstand a couple dozen bombs. The KG assigned there tend to be on Erol's shit list, though."

"Eeesh."

"Yeah."

Dax shook his head, and curled up as best as he was able. "Torn says he's got information for us," he said.

Sig grunted. "If it's half as good as what you got from Veger, I'll be a very happy man."

"One day you're going to have to explain what you're doing. If I don't know, I can't look for anything specific."

"Cherry," Sig said, glaring down a passing KG, "it's better for you if I don't."

Dax rolled his eyes. "Sig, I'm a _rat_."

"The KG know better."

It was useless to protest that only Erol and a few other high up members of the KG knew he was intelligent and up to something. The lower ranks had orders to bring any rodents of Dax's description to their commander, and no matter how nutty they thought it was, they'd do it.

Being with Sig kept the KG from trying it, but Dax didn't want to chance being caught on his own.

Sig kept a steady pace as he headed towards an unfamiliar area of the city. Dax knew the streets, vaguely, but had never spent much time in the place. There weren't any food shops, or any places a small creature could curl up and hide in. There were a few good ways for him to cut through, short cuts to food and shelter, but that was about it for his personal knowledge.

"There's a gate that leads to the mine," Sig said. Apparently he was reading minds again. "There's no direct connection."

"Huh." Dax nodded, and frowned. Several KG were guarding the entrance to one of the buildings. "That it?"

"Yeah." Sig shifted his gun, and continued with his steady pace. The KG ahead seemed to barely notice him, but one began shifting from foot to foot. In anyone else Dax would've said they were nervous, but the KG was more likely trying to decide whether to shoot the Wastelander or not.

Sig kept going until he was in clobbering range. He had the three KG's attention. "You have metal-head problems," he said, just short of snarling.

Dax did his best to look like a stupid animal again. This was how Sig dealt with KG when working; no need to do anything more than intimidate them senseless.

The KG that couldn't hold still nodded, and moved closer a step. "You have been authorized?" he asked. Maybe she asked, but the armor hid any physical attributes, and the helmet made everyone's voice androgynous.

Sig shifted his gun, and leaned on it. "What do you think?"

Dax only barely stifled a giggle.

The KG hesitated, then stepped to the side. "Clear him through," he said to one of the others.

They were let into a hallway that was insufficiently lit, the fluorescent bulbs above putting out a weak, yellowed light that flickered occasionally. Ottsel eyes adjusted to the different light levels faster than human eyes did; Dax whispered a quick warning to Sig when he noticed a shallow step, only a few inches in height. The Wastelander seemed oblivious to the obstacle, but didn't trip.

"Big building for a single transporter ring," the Wastelander said.

"This is the eco refinery," the guard replied. "Down this way."

Dax paid careful attention to the turns they took. The final destination was in a room devoid of anything to break the monotony of steel gray walls, floor, and ceiling, save a single computer tucked away on a desk in one corner, and the transporter ring in the middle of the room.

It gave him a shiver, to see something so very like, and so very _unlike_ the old Precursor rings in this place. Precursor metal had a sheen to it, a feel, that steel lacked. Still, the things worked, so he wasn't going to complain.

"What'm I looking at?" Sig asked, fiddling a little with his gun. He cleaned it obsessively, and if he'd ever used the safety on his Peacemaker, Dax would fall over dead with shock.

The guard moved over to the computer, and started tapping. "Nest guards. They've probably brought in eggs by now."

Sig grunted, and tilted his head so the lens of his optic glinted at Dax. The ottsel made a face in reply.

"Connection engaging in three... two..." Energy- blue eco, Dax judged, pale and twisted like everything in this city- crackled to life, filling the center of the ring, before clearing to show a view out over a bunch of torn up ground and machinery moving. Dax could just hear the drone of metal-head wings, like bumble-beetles made giant.

"A'right," Sig said, and shouldered his gun. "I'll come back through once it's all cleaned up."

The guard turned away from the computer. "You have twenty-four hours," he said. "Hour twenty-five, and we'll assume you're dead."

Sig chuckled at that, and shrugged the shoulder Dax was sitting on. "Whatever. Won't take that long."

Then he stepped through the gate.

The air changed immediately; it smelt of eco and oil, old dirt that hadn't seen the light of day for centuries suddenly exposed; it smelt of human blood and metal-head gore. Back in the refinery, the air had been artificially chill, but out here it was the cold before the sun rose all the way.

The mine gate hadn't been put inside a building, like Dax would've thought, but then he remembered the big room, with nothing in it, and the eco charge crackling through the air like a bomb waiting to blow. Maybe there was a good reason to have the thing outside here.

Just a few meters away was the building Dax assumed protected the mine employees. There were a few KG guards sprawled out on the ground- sprawled being the only good word for 'limp and missing limbs' at this early in the morning- but he couldn't see any metal-heads.

Yet.

_Is this the part where I say it's too quite? Whenever I say that, shit hits the fan._ Dax shook his head, and pressed his mouth tight in a thin line. Like hell he was saying that stupid, cliché line.

Sig looked over, and raised his eyebrows when it became obvious that Dax wasn't going to talk. Then he grinned.

"It's quite," he said, so dry it was a wonder sand didn't fall from his mouth. "Too quiet."

The buzz of metal-head wings immediately got louder.

"Sig!"

The wastelander laughed, and lifted his gun.

"You like this! Crazy psycho!"

Then there was no time to yell, except when a metal-head tried to come up from behind.

Adrenaline rushes always left him feeling funny. Like his fur was too tight, and too loose, all at the same time. Like he wanted to get up and run forever, and fall down and not move ever again. Like-

_Like I'd just been through a fight. Stuff it, Dax. Red stuff dripping from Sig's arm bad, remember?_

Right. Dax shook his head, shook off the lingering adrenaline shakes, and scrambled down until he could grab onto Sig's belt. The big guy kept the most basic of first aid equipment in a pouch. Nothing more than some gauze bandages, a half-filled tube of ointment treated with green eco to prevent infection; certainly no needles or thread, or anything useful on a wound bigger than a small-ish cut.

"Leave it," Sig rumbled, still breathing hard. If Dax got the shakes from a fight, Sig got the gleefuls. Not quite berserker rage, but close enough.

"Blood'll attract metal-head attention," Dax said. "We gotta get people out through this thing, I'd rather the creepy crawlies weren't hanging around."

The Wastelander actually paused to think about that, and by then it was too late. Dax smeared the ointment over Sig's bicep, and watched the cut start to clot up and scab over. The quick bandage job was just in case the scabs broke or something.

Sig grunted, but waited while Dax returned the ointment to its pouch, then scrambled back up to his spot. After all, what was there to say?

Someone had triggered some very strange, very nasty machinery between the gate and the building's door, but Sig avoided it easily. Seriously, though. Why were chainsaws sticking straight up out of the ground, sliding back and forth on rails?

_Maybe a security system?_ Dax turned his head, and continued staring at the chainsaws until Sig coughed, dragging his attention back to where it belonged.

Right.

There wasn't a doorbell or anything useful, so Sig pounded the butt of his gun on the door. Dax winced, ears flat against his head, and hunched over on Sig's shoulder. That sort of treatment should've set the Peacemaker off. It hadn't.

Maybe Sig did know what a safety catch was, after all.

Dax glanced down at the bottom half of the Peacemaker, and felt faint. Nope, the safety was not on, and it was a miracle the gun hadn't gone off and taken out something important.

Actually... He'd never actually thought about it, but did the Peacemaker even _have_ a safety?

He looked away from the gun when old, badly maintained speakers crackled on with a rush of white noise that set his fur on end. He finally spotted the damn things, perched under the minimal eaves of the roof, just as the white noise stopped and the stammering started.

It was hard to interpret, between the stuttering and the static, but the speaker seemed to be trying to threaten Sig into going away, while at the same time babbling about not wanting to die.

"Oy," Sig said, his patience with people officially run out. Well, with Mr. Babbles, anyways. "This is a rescue. Open the damn door or I'll open it for you!"

"You'll never take me alive!" was the deranged sounding reply.

Sig sighed, walked away a few steps, and raised the Peacemaker to his shoulder. "Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Dax ducked down behind Sig's neck just before the guy fired. He scrambled back up, and stared at the smoking hole that used to be a door.

"Well," he said. "That's one way..."

"I could hardly kick it down, could I?" Sig asked. Then he grinned, and tilted his head. "Besides, this way? The Baron won't be able to run the mine proper, not 'till the door's fixed."

"And the eco to power the shield wall?" Dax asked. Honestly, he wasn't sure he cared if the thing fell. So long as he found Jak, and stuck with Sig, well... It wasn't like Haven had gone out of its way to make sure he'd been having a good time. Kind of the opposite, actually.

But... there were kids, and people he'd never met- and so hadn't insulted him- and while he wasn't too sure there was a single _adult_ he'd spend time saving, the kids...

He'd been a kid like that, once. Maybe not so bad off, because the whole village had taken it upon themselves to raise him when his parents died, but yeah. He'd been alone, and if it hadn't been for Jak he'd never have trusted _anybody_, and if not for Samos, he'd be hog-ignorant and probably dead.

"There's plenty of eco," Sig said. "Most of it's just going to the prison."

Oh. Well. "I don't think the Baron's going to do anything," he said.

"Probably not, but if the wall falls, the metal-heads won't avoid him just 'cause he's pretty."

The Baron wasn't pretty, but Dax got what Sig was going for.

"Anyways." Sig shouldered his gun again. "Let's go rescue this guy."

* * *

_Welcome, welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Hope you enjoyed that recent bit of fun. I'm terrible at writing Vin, no idea why. Maybe because I'm not a raging paranoid?_

_For those of you interested- this marks the halfway point for my internship. I've got four weeks left (so the first week of April is my last week) and I'm vaguely freaking out because I have no job lined up. And a mountain of debt. Oy. Internship continues to be a trial, between the meeting from hell (somehow, I get a feeling my fellow co-workers don't like me... No idea why, it's not like I'm socially mal-adjusted or anything...) and the real physical labor (what's a chair? Oh, something you sit on, presumably at work while at a desk? Yeah, don't recognize it.) and the exhaustion (I'm assuming a combination of the previous two points, that one...)_

_Yeah. It's a good thing I've got some chapters pre-written. I need them._

_Anyways, please read, review, and I'll post again on April 26th. Day off, that one. Lucky day!_


	5. Act 1, Chapter 5

**Arc the First: Rescue**  
**Chapter Five**

They found a guy flat on his back, dead to the world, in what Dax privately dubbed the 'shiny room'. It was probably a control-whatever, command center, but all he saw was flashing lights and metal polished bright. Even the floor had a shine to it.

Sig looked down at the guy, and sighed. "Keep an eye on him?" he asked. "I'm going to check the rest of the place."

Considering this room had a blast door, and the hallway no longer did, Dax felt safe enough agreeing. He jumped down, and landed on a control panel. Fortunately he didn't hit any buttons, but the pads of his feet left smudges where he'd hit.

Sig stomped out, and the door closed automatically behind him. Dax kept one ear on the unconscious guy on the floor, and one on the door, and got bored pretty quickly. There wasn't much to look at, once he got past his 'oh, shiny' fixation.

_An' that's getting freaking easier every day. Either I'm growing up, or Sig's rubbing off on me._ Considering his developing fascination for explosions, it was the second one.

_Eh, growing up's overrated, anyways. Wonder what this does?_

His last day in Sandover, the big red button he pushed had led to him, Jak, Keira, Samos, all traveling on what they'd dubbed a 'rift rider' through a big-ass Precursor ring that let out in Haven. This time, the big red button turned on exterior cameras.

What he'd taken for windows with screens drawn turned out to be computer monitors, jumbo sized. Each one- there were three, two on one wall, one on another- divided up into six squares, and each square showed a different part of the mine.

Everything looked quiet, but appearances could be more than deceiving with metal-heads; they could be lethal. Dax absently rubbed at the small of his back, where a buried scorpion metal-head had jumped out and given him a good slice.

He'd managed to get away with his life, but he'd thought he was going to lose his tail. He hadn't, of course, but still.

Something flickered, just barely within camera range. Dax focused, but it didn't start up again. Since the camera seemed to be perched further into the mine, he wasn't too worried, but... something to keep in mind.

The man on the floor groaned, but when Dax looked over, he hadn't moved beyond a few twitching fingers. That was much more interesting than watching the screens, which was a sad, sad commentary on his life at the moment.

There were a few more minutes of twitching fingers, and then the twitching fingers were joined by fluttering eyelashes and a quiet moan. Thankfully the moan was more in line with 'what did I drink last night and why hasn't someone mercifully put me down yet?' rather than anything else. Otherwise Dax was sure he'd have to tear his ears off.

Then the man opened his eyes. Coincidentally, he was looking right at Dax.

Dax had a wonderful, up close and in full Technicolor view of the way the man's pupils contracted to near invisibility, he paled, his heart rate did the proverbial zero-to-sixty... and then he fainted again.

Dax blinked, leaned forward, and then sighed.

"Really?"

* * *

The second time the panicking one woke up, Dax was ready. Sort of. Curled up in a ball, blue eyes big and empty of all thought, and his few remaining signs of humanity tucked out of sight behind him.

_The things I do..._ Going around without pants wasn't too bad, his fur covered everything important, but giving up his gloves and goggles? Yeah, that hurt.

"O-oh. Not a metal-head." The twitchy guy sat up, and raked his fingers back through already flyaway gray hair. "J-j-just a... a... what _is_ it?"

"An ottsel," Dax said, blinking. The guy jerked as though someone had just whacked him with a yakkow prod, but didn't faint again. Good. "Gonna stay upright, there?"

"You're talking!" The man pointed a shaking finger at Dax, and tried to simultaneously melt into the floor and scramble back behind a desk chair.

"Well, yeah. Of course I am. Can I put my gloves back on? My hands are cold."

"You- your gloves?" At least the shrieking had stopped. "Huh?"

Dax uncurled, and pulled gloves and goggles back on. "I thought it was the clothes that freaked you out," he said. "The first time."

"Oh. No. No, no, I thought you were a metal-head."

"I'm not. I'm Dax, by the way. One half of the rescue team. You?"

The guy blinked. "Vin. Rescue team?"

Vin was exactly who they'd been sent to rescue. "Yeah. Torn sent me and a buddy. He's been looking through this place for other people."

And taking a long time about it, too. Dax would've worried, but, it was Sig. If Sig couldn't handle it, then there was a bigger problem than anyone had thought. He was probably just being thorough.

Vin finally managed to sit down in the desk chair, then looked around. Dax almost giggled. That looked kind of like what people had accused him of doing, now and again. Only people kind of expected an animal to look all panicked and check the exits in as little time as possible. Humans just looked odd craning their necks around at that angle.

"There aren't any other people," Vin said. "Well. Unless you count the guards. And they're dead."

"Okay, we won't count bodies. You run the mines all by yourself?"

The man shook his head, then spun his chair around and started tapping at a keyboard. "No. Not exactly. I-I-I just stayed late today. For, you know. Torn. It's normal. At least I think it is. They haven't taken me away yet, but they might just be gathering evidence or using me as an unwitting double agent by letting me access incorrect information and pass it on-!"

Dax blinked, and flattened his ears back against his head as the man continued to rant. Was this normal? He hoped not- Vin was hitting pitches that were guaranteed to give him a headache.

"Hey," he said. Vin stopped, as if someone had hit a button controlling his mouth. "You're fine. We just have to wait for Sig."

"If you're sure."

"I am sure. Now, I don't know about you, but just waiting around is boring. Can you find any other cameras, or where the metal-heads are?"

"What?" Vin raised his head, like a croca-dog hearing something interesting. "Oh. Yes. Easily."

Dax gestured to the three screens. "Please?"

If Vin hadn't been so twitchy, Dax figured the guy might've cackled, or at least rubbed his hands together like an evil genius. As it was, he smiled and rolled his chair over.

Vin was pretty good at handling the controls, at least. He managed to get all but one of the camera feeds shunted over to two of the video screens, with one camera feed taking up an entire screen. Then he started flicking through, having the cameras rotate, and even pulled up camera feeds that hadn't come up when Dax had been pushing buttons.

"So," Vin said. His stuttering had faded; apparently playing with computers relaxed him, a little. "You said you're an ottsel. What is that?"

Dax sighed, and rolled his eyes. "It's what happens when someone falls into dark eco and doesn't die. Wait, stop." He pointed at the screen. "Does that look like a metal-head tail to you?"

Vin squinted at the screen, then flinched back. "Yes. It does. Urk."

"Is that part of the mine far away from here?"

"Not really. That's sector four. This is sector one."

Three sectors away, depending on how the mine was laid out. Dax had to say, that wasn't bad. "Okay. I'll warn Sig when he shows up. Keep going."

And again with the screen flicking around. Dax wasn't going to complain though. _If it keeps him from screaming... I'd listen to yodeling._ And he hated yodeling.

"You fell into dark eco?"

"Yeah. My teenage years ended horribly. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick up chicks while covered in fur?"

"Uh, no?"

"Well, it's hard."

Vin nodded, and played with the camera controls for a few blissful minutes of quiet. "You were human?"

"Yes." Still _was_, thank you very much.

"How does it even work?"

"Don't know."

Vin smiled, and tilted his head. "This is interesting."

"Please tell me you're not a scientist."

"Of course I am! Computers, anyways, though I also find biology fascinating, and physics, and..."

Dax sighed, unnoticed by Vin. Well, it could be worse, he supposed. So long as Vin never showed him a 'gyration capacitor', it sounded painful. And, y'know, as long as there wasn't a test on whatever he was talking about, that'd be good too.

* * *

Sig didn't even bother to knock. "Alright, cherry..." He blinked, and frowned at the spinning desk chair. "Wasn't there a guy sitting there?"

Dax pointed below the desk. "You're apparently a very scary person."

"Am I? Good." Sig walked over, footsteps a bit louder than normal, and crouched down beside the desk. "Alright. You can either walk out of here, or come out carried on my shoulder. I gotta say, I don't take the armor off in the field, so if it's over my shoulder, there's going to be spikes in your gut."

Dax grinned, and jumped from the desktop to Sig's aforementioned shoulder. He was pretty sure, though he couldn't say for certain, that jumping five feet as an ottsel was something like jumping ten feet as a human. Maybe more, maybe less. Physics wasn't his strong point; he hadn't even known what they were before Haven.

"Its okay, Vin," he said. "C'mon, let's get you out of here."

The older man crawled out from under the desk, and cringed away from Sig. "S-s-sure. Yes, out is good. Out is very good."

"Right. Ey, Sig? There's some metal-heads out and about, but none near the gate. Least, not as of five minutes ago."

Sig sighed, and shouldered his gun. "Damn. Ah, well, can't have everything. Let's go."

They made it to the gate without problem, though at every noise Vin made as though to dive behind whatever his panicked mind counted as shelter- which meant Sig, rocks that would've only barely hidden Dax, and once almost into a pool of dark eco- and Sig ended up having to half-carry the man.

"How the hell have you managed to live this long?" Sig asked.

"I hide. A lot. I'm good at that."

Dax sighed, and looked away from the twitching. "Yeah, apparently."

"Dax?"

Dax looked back down. "Yeah?"

"Could I have a sample of your fur?"

Okay... "Why?"

Vin blinked up at him. "Scientist. And I'm curious."

What was the harm? Dax shrugged, and plucked out a few hairs from his tail. "Got someplace to keep 'em?"

Vin produced a handkerchief, which at first sniff seemed clean enough. Dax made sure the hairs were stuck to the cloth, and Vin tucked the whole thing back in a pocket.

"I'll let you know what I find," the scientist said. For once, wonder of wonders, he seemed calm. It lasted all of five seconds, until Sig shifted his weight and made some pebbles crunch underfoot.

Dax sighed.

* * *

_This is easily the shortest chapter so far- but it does set up a few things for later, so I guess it all works out._

_I goofed, last chapter. I said April 26 instead of March 26. The update happens today! And next chapter comes April 9._

_And for those of you who asked- I pre-wrote several chapters (and tis a race to keep ahead, I assure you) and the posting schedule is meant to hopefully keep me from catching up with myself._

_We shall see how well that works out..._


	6. Act 1, Chapter 6

**Arc the First: Rescue**  
**Chapter Six**

"Good work." Torn jabbed a pin into some wall art that doubled as a city map, as though the water slums had personally offended him.

"You mentioned information?" Dax asked. Sig had decided now was a good time to sit on one of the bunk beds and clean the Peacemaker, something that made all sane people nervous. And want to go some distance away. Torn's desk was as far as Dax could get and still be in the same room.

"I did." The Underground soldier's already pale complexion went paler. "Unfortunately, my informant failed to arrive at our meeting. I have to suspect he was found out."

_Oh._ Dax flattened his ears. "Is there _anything_ you can tell me? I don't do well with twitchy people, they make me feel as though I've got fleas."

"I can tell you that your friend is probably not in the prison anymore."

"Probably?"

Torn's glance was not without sympathy, but was pretty heavy on annoyance. "I don't have anything definite."

"I suppose not."

"Now. I do have someone looking, but they have to go slowly and carefully. They're already in a risky spot, and having them look around is only making it worse."

That was something, at least. "Alright, but you owe me an' Sig a freebie. We did a run for you, and get practically nothing for it!"

"I have information for Sig," Torn said. "Just not as much as I'd thought I'd have."

Dax closed his eyes, and did his best not to react. Sig was working his butt off- and had done all the work- but... Damn it, no, he wouldn't complain. He wouldn't even _think_ any complaints. "Well?" he asked, once he was sure he had himself in hand.

Torn snorted, and went back to pushing pins into his map. "Apparently there are rumors of the rightful heir to the throne somewhere in the slums."

Dax _felt_ the moment Sig started paying attention, but didn't give any sign that he'd noticed. Sig was still fussing with oils and polishing cloths, and seemed content- so far- for Dax to handle the questioning.

"Rumors aren't much."

"Well, they're all I've got. Some kid was seen running around with the king's old seal around his neck. I think the Shadow- he's with the Underground- knows something, but he hasn't passed it on." And that bit the big one, Dax could tell. "The king's dead, the queen's... very dead, but apparently the brat isn't."

"That's... more than we've heard in a while," Dax said. A 'rightful heir' with a royal symbol as proof, and the Underground might be involved, though Torn couldn't say for sure since he hadn't been taken into confidence? Yeah, that was a lot more than they'd heard in a while.

"I do what I can."

"Yeah." The ottsel hesitated, and then took the plunge. "But it's never enough, is it? Staying cooped up in here."

Torn's lips twisted. "No. But I'm a liability out there."

"I hear you. Anyways, thanks for the info. Sig and I've got to go. Got a job."

"Wait." The Underground soldier took several deep breaths, and frowned at a sheet of paper on his desk. "Talk to Jinx. Freelance-"

"We know him. He's blown stuff up for Sig before."

"Hn. He might know something. He knows scum that your friend there wouldn't know exists."

Dax glanced over at Sig, who was putting the gun back together, and shrugged. "Well, he probably knows the scum exists," he said. "But I think he's more in the line of kicking it in the teeth than buying it a drink."

Torn made a harsh, clipped sound, that Dax realized was supposed to be a laugh. "Probably. Get out of here."

Dax gave a mocking salute, and did a hop, skip, and jump over to Sig. It was perfect timing; the Peacemaker was back in working order, and Sig waited only long enough for Dax to get into place before standing up and walking out.

"Well," Dax said, once they'd left the alley. "That's interesting."

"Which part, the bit where Torn thinks the Underground has the heir, or that he hasn't been told?"

Dax flicked one ear. "Both, actually. An' I can only say I'm pretty sure he wasn't lying about not being told."

"If you're pretty sure, and I'm pretty sure, we can be completely sure," Sig said.

"Okay. So, Jinx?"

Sig rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Just a bit over scum, that one," he said. "Yeah. We'll stop by Krew's, all he said was he wanted us to make a run to the stadium for him. Jinx should be there."

Dax scowled. "Last time, he tried to put that cigar out on my back," he muttered.

"An' you saw what I did to him, cherry, so let it go."

Yeah. Considering the amount of glass on the floor, Dax figured he could let it go. Unless Jinx decided to make an issue about it, then a friendly reminder might be in order.

The trip through the city was quiet, for once. There weren't any checkpoints, at least not along the route Sig took, and no high speed chases. The Guards didn't even look all too closely at Sig, which was a wonder all its own.

Even the harbor seemed quiet.

"This is too creepy," Dax murmured.

Sig nodded. The tiny gears in his optic, that controlled the focus, were ticking quietly, and his visible eye swept back and forth, paying special attention to the shadows by the sides of the buildings.

"Something's up," he murmured. "Maybe... ah. That."

_That_ was an entire platoon of Guards, led by one man in a specialized uniform. Erol seemed not to care that his armor covered only sections of his body, and his mask was better suited to a zoomer race than a fight. Dax supposed the abbreviated outfit gave the man better range of motion, but personally, he'd take 'less chance of being torn apart by metal-head claws' over 'I can do back flips' any day of the week.

The Guards walked, or rather marched, in formation around an odd box on a hover-sled. The sides of the box looked to be solid steel, with a few slits up near the top of the walls. Even at a distance, Dax could, very faintly, hear deranged growls coming from within the box.

"Looks like they're escorting a metal-head or something," Dax murmured.

"Or something," Sig agreed. "No wonder everything's quiet."

Yeah. Seeing that sort of thing paraded through the streets would shut up the most vocal of criminals.

Sig stepped to the side, into one of the shadows he had been glaring at just a minute previously, and waited. The box was loaded into the back of a KG transport, Erol and ten of the guards got on, and the rest of the guards dispersed as the transport lifted off the ground, and flew out of sight.

Dax flicked an ear, and stared after the dispersing guards as Sig started walking again. That had been strange. Very strange.

* * *

"Ah, Sig." Krew moved closer, his tiny legs waggling bonelessly beneath his hover-chair. "Prompt as always. I do appreciate that about you."

Sig grunted in reply. "What do you want this time?" he asked.

The crime lord sucked in a breath, and grinned, baring rotten teeth to the world. "Just a delivery, my boy. A simple matter. To one of my employees at the stadium, didn't I tell you this?"

Dax hopped off Sig's shoulder, onto a table. Krew didn't even notice. The standards here at the Hip Hog would've given a health inspector cold chills, but it meant no one batted an eye at an oversized rat running around.

"You did, but what, exactly, am I transporting?"

Krew chuckled. Dax stared at the bar. It wasn't that far away, the saloon wasn't all that big. He could nip over, get a drink.

Sig's hand came down and wrapped around his tail. Then again, maybe he'd stay right where he was.

"Nothing illegal. Merely parts for an experimental racing zoomer my employee is working on."

Dax rolled his eyes. Stolen parts, he'd bet.

Sig grunted. "Fine. It's done. Jinx around?"

Krew fluttered his fan, which clearly wasn't doing a good enough job if the reek coming off him meant anything. "Why?"

"I want to talk to him." Sig shifted Dax from the table, back onto his shoulder. "He owes me."

The crime boss sneered, and waved a pudgy hand. "He should be in this evening."

Sig's smile was a hell of a lot more dangerous than Krew's lack of hygiene. "That's what I was hoping. Package around the back?"

"Where else would I keep it?"

Sig shrugged. "Just checking."

Dax hunched down on Sig's back, his fur crawling. "That guy always looks at me like he's got a sandwich waiting for me."

"He probably does," Sig murmured back. "But it ain't gonna happen."

"Better not."

The package was small, as such things went. Sig, despite Dax's prompting, refused to shake it. Instead, he tucked it under one arm and hit the streets.

There were plenty of zoomers parked on the street; Sig never looked at any of them. For someone who broke more bones in a week than someone into the whips and chains scene did in a year, the Wastelander was surprisingly law abiding.

Dax tilted his head, and amended his previous thought. Sig was only law abiding when he wanted to be. Maybe he just didn't like zoomers.

The ottsel settled down, and watched the city slowly uncurl from whatever the scene with the guards earlier had been. The stadium was on the completely opposite side of Haven from the harbor. On foot, it'd take a while. He might as well catch a nap, or at least pretend to.

* * *

The guard directed Sig towards a dingy hallway, one that the public, clearly, didn't follow. The Wastelander shifted package and gun, and let his boots hit the ground just a little louder than they normally did. The noise echoed, making it clear to anyone hanging around that someone was approaching.

Not a bad thing, Dax thought. It would suck to surprise anyone, with all the guards around. He could see it now, a bunch of trigger happy goons in sight-obscuring masks coming in, guns blazing. Sig was a good shot; the guards weren't. It was a recipe that would be begging for trouble.

There was only one repair bay open, so at least the guesswork as to where Krew's agent was had been taken out of the picture. The other bays were dark, with chain-link gates pulled closed over the large archways.

Sig paused before entering the bay, and Dax looked it over quickly. There was a dismembered zoomer in pieces on the table, and a grease-stained hand towel tossed over the back of a rolling desk chair. What he guessed were schematics of zoomers were pinned to the walls, and two of the walls were lined with metal filing cabinets and long metal tables that seemed to serve as counters. The third wall looked like it should have been an alcove, but had been blocked off by a ratty green curtain.

"Huh," Dax said. "This looks homey." And empty.

"It's not," someone snapped. Dax looked over at the curtain again, and squinted. Yeah, okay, now he saw the faint silhouette of a person. "What do you want?"

"Package," Sig rumbled.

A huff, and the curtain was jerked back just enough for a young woman to stomp through. Dax's eyes widened, even as he looked over someone who had been as familiar as his own hands had once been.

Her blue hair had darkened a bit, just enough to make her green roots all the more noticeable, and had been cut short. Her eyes were narrowed, and her mouth pinched, but her nose and chin hadn't changed. Her clothes had, but clothes were clothes. She was a bit taller, a bit curvier, but it didn't affect the speed at which he recognized her.

"Keira?" he asked.

She looked over, and her eyes widened. "Daxter?"

He felt, rather than heard, Sig rumble a laugh. "Your name's Daxter?" the big guy asked.

Right, he never had given Sig his full name... Not that it mattered. "Yeah," he said, to both of them. "Keira, what're you doing here?"

"What am I- what are you doing here?" She moved forward several steps, almost stumbling, and then stopped, and glared at Sig. "With such company?"

Sig raised his eyebrows, and held out the package. "Do you want this or not?"

Keira huffed, and grabbed the package. "I assume it's from Krew?" she asked. She couldn't have sounded more disdainful if she'd tried.

Well, Dax thought, remembering a few instances from their childhood, she could have. But it would've had to involve cake batter, motor oil, and a really nasty failure at cooking.

"Who else?" Sig asked. He glanced from Keira, to Dax, and back. "I can see you have some catching up to do. I'll wait in the hall."

Dax hesitated, for a second seized with a desperate impulse to call Sig back, but shrugged it off. This was Keira. Maybe they hadn't traded their biggest secrets, and maybe she'd been annoyed whenever he'd tried to help with her experiments, but they were still friends.

Besides, she'd want to know about Jak, as much as he could tell her.

Keira stared down at Dax, then fluttered her fingers in an aborted gesture. "You... Where have you been?"

Dax considered hopping onto the table, but thought better of it. With all the zoomer parts, he might disturb something. "I, well, the streets, for a bit."

Keira's lips twisted. "Yeah, I know that story," she said. "The past two years has been hell."

Two and a half, but who was counting. "You seem to be doing good though. Zoomers... they're kind of like what you were working on already."

"Only much more advanced." She sighed, and sat down on the chair. "I had to re-learn practically everything. If Erol hadn't sponsored me-"

"Hold up. _Erol_? With the Krimzon Guard? _That_ guy?"

Keira frowned at him. "Yes, Daxter, that Erol. He saved me, got me this job- you have no idea what my life here was like before he helped me."

"I can guess," Dax snapped. "Keira, he runs the prison!"

"Which is full of criminals, Daxter. You know, the kind of people you don't want on the street?" She rolled her eyes.

"They put Jak in there."

For a moment, Keira looked shocked. Then she scowled. "No. No, I asked Erol if he'd seen Jak, and he said no. And Erol oversees the prisoners _personally_. You're wrong."

Dax drew himself up to his full two-feet-one-inch, not counting the ears. "I know, because I saw the KG drag Jak off. I know, because I've spent the last two and a half years trying to get Jak out!"

"Really?" Keira stood up, and she was much taller than he was. "So why are you here? Why are you with that- that soldier of Krew's, hm? And why, if you're so sure, aren't you with Jak right now? If the KG took him, didn't you try to, I don't know, stop them?"

"Ottsel versus guards armed with blasters. Yeah, that's a real smart fight. An' Sig's helping me! You can't just break into the prison without planning!"

"And you're just so good at planning things, aren't you?"

Dax flattened his ears, and then pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Good enough," he said. "Fine. Keira, I'm sorry, but your hero is nothing like you think. When Erol's true colors show... Well, I warned you."

He turned, and started walking. Keira murmured his name, but he didn't let an ear so much as twitch to show he'd heard her.

Sig sighed, and held out a big hand. Dax jumped up without a look back.

* * *

_For any Keira fans, I take my characterization of her from the second and third games, where she first seemed less than pleased to see Jak for the first time ("Jak! You're... different...") and then, in the second game, seemed to have more or less vanished. At the very least, I can't remember any scenes where she really talked. I know you can take her actions in many different ways, but in this one? Yeah, sorry, Keira fans. She won't show up much. This is why._

_For those of you who're curious (show of hands? Is this where crickets chirp?) I finished my internship last Friday, and am now looking for work. Hope to find something soon, as student debt sucks. I do have plenty of chapters pre-written, which is how I'm able to keep my posting schedule going. I hope to keep ahead of what I'm posting. I've already had one bout of writer's block, despite having the plot more or less fully written. Another one will only set me back even more._

_Either way, the next chapter will be posted this month, on the 23rd. Read, review, enjoy, in whatever order you prefer._


	7. Act 1, Chapter 7

**Arc the First: Rescue**  
**Chapter Seven**

They headed right back to the Hip Hog. Dax wanted a drink, needed a drink, and knew he wouldn't get anything more potent than fruit juice. Sig had decided, with phrasing that made it clear that this was a tyranny and not a democracy, that Dax was well on his way to pickling his liver. If he wanted any help rescuing his friend he'd drop the alcohol immediately.

He had. It didn't mean it was easy.

"Jinx doesn't normally show up until later," Sig said.

Dax twitched an ear. "So- information?"

"Our money's getting low. Got anything juicy?"

Running down everything Dax had overheard that sounded even slightly interesting took long enough that Sig was entering the Hip Hog by the time Dax was done. The Wastelander grunted, and headed for a booth at the back of the saloon. Krew wasn't anywhere in sight, thankfully, and the bartender had clearly only just arrived, as she was still setting up the bar to her satisfaction.

Suddenly the day looked brighter. Not by a lot- Jak was still prisoner, Keira was dating Erol, and Dax didn't know if he'd ever forgive her for that- but hey. Tess could make any hurt seem a little less, if only for a short while.

"Tess!" Dax jumped from Sig's shoulder to a table, and proceeded to go from table to table until he'd reached the bar. The tabletops were slightly sticky, but a hell of a lot better than the floor. "My sweet Tessy-kins, did you miss me?"

Tess gasped, and gave a little squeal. "Daxxie! Oh, sweetie, did I ever! You've been good for me while you've been gone?"

Dax gave a wordless croon. "I've tried, babe, believe me I've tried. But it's been a bad couple of days."

"Oh..." Tess immediately reached over and started scratching, talented fingers dancing up and down Dax's spine. He sighed, and slumped over.

"Tell me where it hurts."

"My heart," he replied. "Friend of mine stomped all over it."

Tess plucked him up off the bar, and cuddled him. If he'd been human, he'd have _really_ enjoyed the sudden view, but as an ottsel he could only appreciate it for its aesthetic beauty. She glared over at Sig, who was pretending ignorance. "I'll hurt him for you, Daxxie."

"Wha?" Dax twisted around, and stared at Sig. "No, he didn't- different friend. Finally found one."

Tess began scratching behind his ears. "Oh?"

"Yeah. She's... Well. Let's just say it's the first time we've talked in a while, and it could've gone better."

"My poor baby. Give me her name, I'll break her face."

Dax chuckled, and arched his back. This was almost as good as perching on Jak's shoulder. "Nah. You don't have to do that. Just- she changed, y'know? Anyways, I'll deal."

Tess pursed her lips, but nodded. "If you change your mind, let me know. Now. I have an idea for a new drink, and you're _just_ the guy I need to test it on. Virgin only, though, so no worries!"

Dax shrugged, an odd look for someone lying across a young lady's arm. "Tessy-kins, I'm yours. What's it called?"

Tess giggled, and let him down onto the bar. "I'm thinking of calling it a 'screaming orgasm'," she said. "What do you think?"

"Eh." Really? In this place? "Sounds a bit upscale."

"You're right." Tess grabbed several bottles, and lined them up on the bar. "What about 'a good screw'?"

"Now you're talking."

The drink was good, the company better, and Dax managed to while away the two and a half hours before company meandered in. With the first patron of the day, Tess became all business, and Dax returned to Sig to play the part of shoulder ornament.

_One day,_ he thought, pulling out the well-worn grievance to worry at it some more.

Was it his fault he wanted to be turned back human? Yeah, he had other things in his life more important than that- rescuing Jak, helping Sig with whatever the big guy was looking for, finding a way back home if everything else worked out okay- but he really, _really_ missed pants.

And, y'know, being tall enough to see _over_ the counter without _standing_ on it.

_And it'd be nice not to have to dodge fur hunters._ He sighed, and sprawled out around Sig's shoulder-spikes. Nice was a bit of an understatement, at that.

Granted, being two feet tall and fuzzy wasn't all bad- see Tess' reaction to him, which inevitably involved one _hell_ of a good view- but the good sure didn't make up for all the crap he had to deal with.

At least he had a plan. Rescue Jak. Help Sig with the big guy's project. Find the others- Keira was at a known location, now, and Samos shouldn't be too hard to find- and find a way home. Once they were home... Yeah, then they could look into how to turn Dax-the-ottsel back into Daxter-the-human.

Dax frowned, and tapped a finger on Sig's shoulder guard. The big guy nodded, barely, and started pressing his current company for the truth, before broken bones entered into the conversation.

Okay, so the super-senses were actually pretty cool. He still wanted to shave in the mornings.

Not that he'd had a chance to shave before the dip in dark eco. Not the _point_.

Sig's current conversation partner got up and wandered off, looking a wee bit wobbly. "I missed that," Dax admitted.

"Nothing big. Just a reminder that he shouldn't try to pass a red fish off on me again. You've been thinking hard."

"Yeah." Not so hard his ears turned off, at least. "Just- I miss pants, and shaving without looking weird."

Sig chuckled. "Could always be worse, cherry. An' look, Jinx. Right on time."

Dax looked over at the door, and more particularly, the explosives expert meandering in through the door. The guy was blond; not a nice blond, more like someone had rubbed dirt into pure yellow. And he stank of the cigars he was forever smoking, which left him looking somewhat jaundiced, and stained his teeth brown around the gums.

Sig raised a hand, catching Jinx's attention pretty much immediately. The man smirked, then sauntered across the room, nodding to a few of the scum scattered around the tables.

The room had filled up while Dax was thinking. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. The guards patrolled heavily around this hour, so it was a good time for ne'er-do-wells to head inside for a quiet drink.

"Sig my man," Jinx said, sliding into the booth across from the Wastelander. "Long time no see, and you still have that rat."

Dax favored the man with a dark look. The guy's whining voice was particularly painful for sensitive ears.

"Yeah. I was told you had information."

Jinx sneered. "Always do."

Sig folded his arms, not on the table. "Word on the street is that you've got information about the prison. Information you haven't passed on yet."

Jinx was too professional to blanch, but Dax heard the pulse in his throat speed up. A little. "What, me?" Jinx took a drag on his cigar. "C'mon, Sig. Don't I always tell you want you want?"

"Dunno," Sig replied. He sounded amused, but the last time he'd let anyone hear the humor in his voice, he'd broken both their arms. Jinx had been there, too. "There was that time about the patrols in the sewers."

Another drag on the cigar. "Eh, slipped my mind, that one. I'm a forgetful guy."

"Then you'd better find something to fix your memory quick." And all humor was gone from Sig's voice. Dax chanced a look at his friend's face, then looked away. This probably had something to do with Sig's history with Jinx. Dax wasn't sure what had happened, exactly, but judging from the sewer comment, Sig was still sore over it.

That wasn't usual. Sig had this thing, kind of like a time limit on how long he could be pissed at the criminals he dealt with. The way he put it, if he didn't let go of a grievance, he'd have no one to talk to.

But the sewer thing had to have happened before Sig had met Dax, so that was at least six months right there. And Dax hadn't ever seen Sig hold a grudge more than three, four weeks, tops.

_Maybe this explains why we hardly ever talk to Jinx._ And Sig's overreaction when Jinx had tried using Dax as an ash tray. Friend or not, you didn't throw someone into a mirror over something like that.

Jinx coughed, and waved the hand not clutching the cigar. "Well, maybe I know a few things, but they're pretty out there. Dark eco monsters and mad scientist stuff."

"I've got a pretty big suspension of disbelief."

"I bet." Jinx laid both hands flat on the table. His cigar waggled at the corner of his mouth while he spoke. "Well, fine. It's like this. Praxis listened to one too many of the crazies on his staff, and started playing with the explosive stuff." He paused to take a long drag, and blew smoke out in Dax's direction.

"Well, like I was saying, he decided playing with the explosive stuff sounded like fun, so he started pumping it into a prisoner here and there. To see what it did, I guess."

"And how would you know this?" Sig asked, his voice deep and rumbling so Dax had trouble understanding him. He was probably the only one with that trouble, considering he was so close to the source of the noise. Further away it probably wouldn't be so bad. Probably.

"Hey, I've been in the clink." Jinx grimaced, and rubbed at the inside of his elbow. "Once was more than enough. I cut a plea bargain- this was when they were still taking them- and haven't let 'em catch me since."

Sig half-closed his eye, and waited. Dax mimicked his friend, eyes half closed and focused on Jinx.

The explosives expert stubbed out his cigar on the table, then pulled another out from a jacket pocket. He didn't light it, though. Merely stared at it.

"Thing is, I heard they started getting results," he said, his voice quiet. "And then- I dunno, they've got a monster now. Haven't seen it, no one I've talked to has, but they've been taking it outside the walls wherever there's metal-heads, and letting it loose. You can hear the screams, if you stand in the right place."

"Sounds like an urban legend," Sig said.

"Hey, it weren't no friend of a friend of mine that heard the thing screaming, it was me. Out by the pumping station. There's an infestation."

Sig smiled, a thin curve across the lower half of his face. "And I suppose you know when they're going to use this thing?"

Jinx almost dropped his cigar. "Please tell me you're not going to try to _look_ at it."

"Sure. I'm not going to try looking at it."

"Don't." Jinx frowned, and finally lit his cigar. "I mean it, don't do it."

"You don't have a say in what I do or don't do," Sig said. He unfolded his arms, and laid his hands flat on the table. It was a hell of a lot more intimidating when he did it than when Jinx had made the same gesture. Then again, Sig's hands were at least twice as large as Jinx's.

"Fine, than a word to the wise. If you see it, shoot it."

Sig's response wasn't a word, but it was a creepy-as-hell noise. Rather like a cross between a grunt and a growl, actually.

Jinx leaned back in his seat, and this time blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. "They keep this monster at the palace, I think. Least, that's what I've heard, though considering the source... Eh, take it with a pound of salt. They load it up into a transport, then head out, but don't ask me when."

"They head out when they feel like it." Sig stood up, and glared down at Jinx. "If this pans out, maybe I'll forget the sewer."

Jinx's nod seemed a bit too hasty, but Dax decided not to think about it. Some things he just didn't need to know, even if he wanted to.

Sig crossed the room, bumping into several men and not apologizing once. Then again, in this sort of place, apologies were a weakness no one could afford.

Only once they were in the open air did Dax feel tense muscles relax. "You really don't like Jinx."

Sig took a deep breath, as anger tightened the skin across his cheekbones. "You know I'm here on a mission."

"Aren't we all? But yeah."

"I almost had it. And his information was off."

Dax glanced sideways at Sig. "Is this about the sewer thing?"

"In part."

Well, okay then. "Gotcha. So, you think his info's good?"

Sig's lips twisted into a grim smile. "When he can be persuaded to part with it, yeah. Problem is, he'll part with it to anyone."

"Like the Guard."

Sig nodded. "Wanna bet they'll be keeping an eye out for me?"

Dax tilted his head. "But not for me. Let's find a place I can keep an eye on things without drawing attention?"

"And get you a comm. No way am I leaving you without means to contact me."

Dax grinned, and curled his tail around the back of Sig's neck.

* * *

_One more chapter left in this arc, and it'll be posted May 7._

_On a more personal front, still job hunting, but I've got a short-term part-time job, so I haven't gone on Unemployement Insurance yet. Always a good thing._


	8. Arc 1, Chapter 8

**Arc the First: Rescue**  
**Chapter Eight**

Week two, and Dax had yet to get bored out of his mind.

It helped that he was watching the palace. There was an entirely different caliber of Guards in this area, not the least of which was Erol.

Considering Erol was, first, commander of the guard, and second, dating Keira, Dax figured it was his sworn duty to watch the guy as much as possible.

_Argument or not, Keira's still family, or good as. And that asshole's nowhere near good enough._ There weren't many Dax figured was good enough for his favorite gadget-wench. Jak was one, and- actually, yeah, Jak was pretty much the only guy he could see putting up with Keira. Sure, he'd messed things up for them a few times, but if they were going to kiss, they might as well do it somewhere Samos wasn't. Seriously. Sure, they'd saved the world, but Samos had been _right there_ and he'd looked... funny.

Last time he'd looked funny like that, Dax had spent three afternoons in a row copying pages in Samos' herb book. He'd probably do something worse to the guy that kissed his daughter.

Heh. Maybe part of his lack of boredom had something to do with imagining what would happen when Samos found out about his little girl's suitor. It wouldn't be pleasant. Dax would back Samos against anyone, any day of the week.

Fifteen feet over and easily as many feet down, the palace doors slammed open, a double line of twenty KG marching down the stairs.

_Hel-lo, what have we here? Something interesting at last._ Dax pricked his ears forward and strained his eyes. Yup, there was Erol. And- he glanced up- a descending transport, bigger than any zoomer-car in existence, armor plated and everything. The engines were a bone-rattling roar, even at this distance.

It looked a little like the procession he'd seen a few weeks earlier, with the large number of Guards, Erol, the transport, and- the box.

However hard he strained his ears, he couldn't hear any snarling. And the box was a slightly different one, bigger- maybe a foot higher- with narrow slits Dax couldn't have fit through along the top. So- they were transporting something. And considering Jinx's information two weeks ago, it was a pretty safe bet that they were transporting the 'monster'.

_The only monsters in this place have a human face. Ugh._ Sure, metal-heads were nasty, but they weren't even as smart as croco-dogs. Their terrible deeds were all due to instinct. Humans just went and got _creative_.

Dax reached over and flicked on his comm. It only had the one frequency programmed in, which at least meant Dax didn't have to memorize any codes. The thing rang maybe one and a half times before Sig picked it up.

Fortunately, Dax didn't have to say anything. The transport was revving its engines as the box finished loading and all twenty Guards-plus-Erol piled into the back. The hatch closed, Sig turned off the comm., and Dax scrambled out of his hiding place, the better to watch where the transport was heading.

He pressed his lips together, but went back to his spot- up on a ledge, beneath a gargoyle's sheltering wing- to get his comm. No need to leave that sort of thing behind.

Sig was there within fifteen minutes, and barely paused long enough for Dax to jump down onto his shoulder. He tucked the comm. away in a pocket, and made tracks.

Some places weren't safe for even a Wastelander to walk.

"Where?" Sig asked.

"East, at speed."

"Dead Town."

Dax tilted an ear.

"Used to be behind the walls, but the metal-heads overran it. Praxis gave it up, an' a lot of Guards died for nothing."

Ah, yes. Praxis' lovely idea of tactics. Dax rolled his eyes and looked east.

"Should we take a zoomer?"

Sig shook his head. "Hate those things, never any traction when you need it." Instead, he picked up his pace from a quick walk to a steady jog.

Dax crouched down on Sig's shoulder, and held on.

* * *

The scream started low, then jerked up high, and went on, and on, and on.

_Oh yeah,_ Dax thought, fur prickling, _I'd say that's something scary._

Not necessarily a monster. He'd heard animals make worse noises, once upon a time.

Granted, animal noises never made his fur prickle and stand on end like this, but hey. Something new every day, right?

Sig kept crouched low, even as he scuttled over to the next scrap of cover. "What was that?" he murmured.

"No clue. There's a- something, twisted metal- five feet up and two over."

It was slow going, but the place didn't have much in the way of solid ground paired with shelter. If Sig wanted to risk wading in no-doubt toxic sludge, then there was plenty of shelter. If he wanted to chance being spotted and shot at, there was plenty of solid ground.

The scream stopped, then started up all over again. This time, Dax picked up on the sound of tearing metal, the rapid fire of Guard weapons on full power.

"Sounds like one hell of a firefight," he muttered.

Sig grunted, and bolted for the next available patch of shelter. Unfortunately, it was several dozen feet away, and close to the screaming. A lot closer than Dax actually wanted to get, now that he thought about it.

At least the sound of the screams was something to focus on. Something wasn't right, and there was more in the air than just eco crackling back and forth over the sand and fallen structures. The wrong-ness tugged at the corners of his eyes, as if he could turn and look and see-

No. That was crazy. Time to pay attention to the present, Dax, before he lost his future.

There was a pause, just as Sig reached the best vantage point for the fight, and they both peered around the crumbling wall.

There were a lot of metal-head bodies, Dax noticed. And a lot of guards. Erol wasn't anywhere to be seen- probably still with the transport, left hovering even further back. Ironic, that in order to get anywhere Sig'd had to go a good distance around, until the Guards stood between them and Haven's walls.

_Actually, no, not ironic. Annoying_.

And between them and the guards- metal-heads. Lots and lots of metal-heads.

Sig sucked in a breath, but Dax wasn't sure if it was because of the metal-head numbers, or because of what- who- stood between the metal-heads and the guards.

There was something off, something even more off than just this Dead Town place. The guy was dressed in prison togs, but they'd seen better days years and years ago. They were ragged, covering enough skin for decency, but not much else.

Then the guy looked up, and all the wrong feelings snapped into place.

That was Jak's face.

Only it wasn't.

"Jak," Dax whispered.

Sig glanced over, opened his mouth- and that's when things went to hell.

One of the metal-heads must've had better ears than the rest, because it turned and spotted Sig. It screeched, loud and high and _Precursors_!

Dax realized he was collapsed on Sig's shoulder just as said shoulder disappeared from under him. He hit the sand hard, but was up and with a crumbling wall at his back in seconds. Street instincts saved his life yet again.

Sig shot, reloaded, and shot. Metal-heads screeched, about a third going after Sig, two-thirds after Jak.

The Guard was shooting, but their aim was _crap_. Dax flattened his ears against his head, the better to dull the skull-piercing noises, and crouched down.

What could he do? Not much. Sig was- well, getting over there would be suicide, at best. Getting over to Jak- _was_ that Jak? He'd been sure a minute ago- would be even harder. And the Guards? Pfft! Hah!

Sig was managing fine. The big guy seemed to be having fun, even, face all twisted up in a death-mask parody of a grin, kicking and punching and shooting any damn thing that moved.

And Jak- Jak...

Woah.

It was a good thing Dax wasn't involved in the fight. If he hadn't fallen off Sig's shoulder already, seeing his best buddy cutting loose would've... yeah. Woah.

Jak was a whirling dervish of metal-head blood and violence. Every movement was controlled, as smooth as silk and always ending in spraying gore. He kicked out to the side- and a metal-head fell to the sand, head twisted back on a snapped neck.

_That's... What did they do to him? I'll kill 'em!_

Beautiful, violent, deadly. Those weren't words Dax should use about his best friend- not ever.

Erol. That's who was responsible. Dax narrowed his eyes, curled his upper lip. He'd need something good- maybe cyanide. Everyone used it as a rat poison, wouldn't be too hard to gather enough up to drop a man. And the prison was protected a hell of a lot better than the guard barracks...

Bonus points, Erol would then be out of Keira's life. What was wrong with that?

Dax forced his attention back to the fight, which seemed to be dying down. Okay, scramble back onto Sig's shoulder, then Sig could grab Jak and they'd lose the Guard in the mess of Dead Town, then get back into the city and-

The Guard opened fire on Jak.

Dax's eyes bugged out. His best buddy arched back, a pained screech quickly morphing to an enraged bellow. He spun in place, hands raised and fingers crooked into claws.

"What the?" Sig loaded another round into his Peacemaker. "Dax?"

No need to ask twice. Dax jumped over a metal-head's death throes and was on Sig's shoulder in seconds. Sig didn't even wait, just lunged forward in a half-run, half-fall that brought them towards the Guard at a high rate of speed.

"That your friend?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then."

Jak was already dealing with the guard. So to speak. Dax winced, and Sig ducked a dismembered arm.

The Guard was still shooting, though one or two seemed to have finally noticed Sig bearing down on them. The guns seemed to have been switched from bullets to blue eco charges. Bullets had a longer range, but blue charges weren't stopped by armor.

Sig went down to one knee, but sure as hell wasn't stopped. He swept the Peacemaker in an arc at knee height. Three guards stumbled, one fell, and the shooting stopped briefly as the Guard struggled to adjust.

They never had the chance. Jak fell on the confused soldiers, in a fury of fists and feet and eco.

Dax gasped, and pushed himself up onto all fours on Sig's shoulder. That was- and Jak!

This close, the familiar arrangement of Jak's face couldn't hide the rest of it.

Tangled, white and dirt colored hair framed a face that was much, much too thin. A ragged goatee tipped Jak's chin, and whatever color it was had been hidden by dirt and other things. His eyes were black, from corner to corner, and there sure as hell wasn't any sanity there.

Dax swallowed once, hard, and stood up. "Jak?"

Those eerie black eyes focused on him. Cracked and bitten lips peeled back from sharp teeth- fangs. Holy crap, Jak had _fangs_.

"Hey, buddy." He sounded like he'd been hit with a couple dozen volts of blue eco. Well, he had. "Hey. It's me, Jak. Your old pal Daxter. Remember?"

Still no sign of recognition. That wasn't good.

Behind Jak, the transport vehicle's engines began to throb and hum. Jak snarled, and fell into a half crouch, turning only enough to peer over his shoulder.

Sig cursed, too quiet for even Dax to make out the words, and then lunged.

He hit Jak square in the chest, and brought them all down to the bloody sand. Dax opened his mouth to yell, felt the wind of a bullet passing over his head, and whimpered instead.

"Okay, time to go." Sig scrambled to his feet, gun up, and pulled the trigger. The Peacemaker jerked in the Wastelander's grip, but the dark eco charged bullet hit home. The transport began to smoke, and the steady throb of the engine began to splutter.

Jak remained on the ground, gasping. Dax hopped down off Sig's shoulder, but his aim was off. Instead of beside Jak, he landed on his friend's stomach. That sure didn't help Jak's breathing problems any.

"Sorry, sorry- Okay Jak, time to go. This train has officially left the station!"

"He's stunned." Sig reached down and hauled Jak up with one arm. Dax maneuvered himself up onto Jak's shoulder.

"Well, yeah, you must weigh like three hundred pounds!"

"That too." Sig seemed to be giving serious thought to just slinging Jak over his shoulder and running, but another shot from the transport- it missed- knocked Jak back into the land of the aware and enraged.

"No clawing Sig," Dax said, about two seconds after Jak lifted his hands to do just that. "C'mon, let's go!"

Sig grunted, and pulled. Jak stumbled, but kept up. The transport attempted to follow, but whatever Sig's shot had done to it was interfering with its speed and maneuverability.

Haven's wall was up ahead, complete with door to safety. Dax gasped, and crouched down, as if that would influence anything.

Running, Jak seemed fine. It was only when they stopped that he sagged. Sig's grip around his back kept him upright, that and pure, one hundred percent Jak stubborn, but it was clearly a close race there. Dax pressed a hand to Jak's temple, and watched the door.

It opened. They scrambled through. It closed, and they were safe inside Haven.

Jak chose that exact moment to collapse. Dax squawked, pressed a hand to Jak's throat, and relaxed at the pulse, throbbing too damn fast for comfort.

"Alright," Sig said. "You two are going to hole up in my apartment, and stay there."

Dax transferred himself from Jak's shoulder to Sig's. "Oh? And what're you going to do?"

Sig hoisted Jak up a little more. The shoulder spikes kept him from slinging the young man in a fireman's carry, but it was clear he'd given serious thought to it. "Somewhere we can hide him but good," he said. "It's a rough and tumble place."

Dax looked over at the Baron's palace, visible even down here in the slums. "You know what? I'm cool with that."

* * *

_Thus ends the first Arc, Rescue. Aren't you glad Jak's no longer a prisoner? Next Arc, Healing, will be posted on the 21st. We're almost catching up, with what I've written and what's being posted. Quiet drama isn't my strength. Oh, well._

_For anyone interested- I don't yet have a full time job, but I've had an interview. The choice is between me- more flexibility, lower salary, and less experiance- and another applicant- less flexible, higher salary, more experiance. I'll hopefully know when I post next, because whether I get the job or not will affect my writing schedule._ _Also, anyone seen the Avengers (or Avengers Assembled, if you're in the UK) movie yet? If you haven't, go. It's awesome._


	9. Interlude: Sage of Shadows

_**Interlude  
Sage of Shadow, Thief of Dreams**_

Peace eluded her this day. The morning had been well; it had been the afternoon's disruption that left her feeling off balance and, bluntly, cranky. Undignified though it was, she knew venting her spleen would make her feel better, for a time. Long enough, perhaps, to meditate and achieve calm, if not tranquility.

One of the acolytes pointed her towards the main area of the temple, where visitors were kept. They were not allowed beyond, into the halls of learning, or where the monks dwelt in their cells.

Her... visitor waited where he had been directed, though instead of sitting on the bench as she had intended, he leaned against a wall carved with the Precursors' hallowed words.

"You," she said, "seem determined to complicate my life."

Sig looked up, and grinned. His teeth were very white against the dark skin of his face, and the glass of his optic glowed a warm crimson at the sight of her.

"Seem. How's the kid?"

Seem pressed her lips together, then decided. She gestured, and fortunately the Wastelander did not ask her any questions. Instead, he shoved away from the wall and crossed the room to join her.

"Follow me," she said, as though he would do anything else. She turned, and walked back into the hallway.

She could almost feel Sig's confusion, a brush of gentle orange and pale green, but it was gone before she could confirm the sensations. Seconds later, she heard the sound of his boots against the stone of the floor. His shadow loomed on the wall next to hers, sometimes behind, sometimes stretching ahead; depending on the torches they passed.

Her office stood between the dormitories where the acolytes slept, and the library and store rooms. Normally she left the door open, for anyone who wished to speak with her, but this time she slid the fragile panel of wood and waxed paper closed.

There were two chairs in the room, one behind the desk and one before it. Either could have carried Sig's weight. Neither of them sat.

"The one you brought me is sick," she said. There were no graceful words to ease the blows she must deliver. She regretted that. "The dark eco has poisoned him, mind, body, and spirit."

Sig raised hairless eyebrows. "What're you saying?"

He would push. "The man is insane."

"Now, it didn't look that way to me. Looked like he'd been starved and shot and thrown into too many fights, but he listened to his little friend."

Apparently her... guest... wasn't the only one with mental issues. "The ottsel, you called it? It does not speak." It merely curled up against the eco poisoned man's neck, and watched everyone who entered the room. No few monks with the healing gifts had refused to go back after finishing a session. Seem, who had reluctantly taken over care duties, too found that unrelenting blue gaze unsettling.

"Well, not where anyone can hear 'em. Look, why don't you take me to see chili pepper and cherry, an' I'll calm the cherry down."

Seem blinked, and mentally shrugged. "I should have expected you would wish to see the one you have rescued."

"That, too."

Seem pressed her fingertips together, and then reached up and brushed Sig's cheek with one hand. "You show too much of your thoughts, Outsider," she said. "Anyone might watch you and read them."

"And what'd you see?" Sig sounded far too amused, for one who had just been informed their privacy had been invaded. Still, there was a slight flush to his cheeks, barely noticeable, but she had been trained to be observant.

"You have an ulterior motive for coming here. Speak of it. It will not leave this room."

Sig made a face, the skin around his optic wrinkling oddly, but nodded. "It's the King. Damas ain't too happy I took time out of looking for his kid, just to bring a friend back here for healing. I can't even promise Jak'll stay, you know? He wants to know why, an'..."

And Sig, though skilled with words, had found his tongue turning leaden in the presence of the king he was convinced he had failed. Seem hesitated, but it was the look in Sig's eye that decided her. She reached forward, and brushed his forearm with her fingertips. The physical contact was greatly daring, but her reward was the slight brightening of Sig's expression.

"Friendship knows no reason," she said. "Come. You will wish to see your friend."

It was folly that an Outsider's thanks could make her heart beat so wildly. She ignored her reaction, and once more led the way out into the hall. The healing chambers were set along one outside wall, on the side of the temple that looked out over cliff and ocean. There, those patients who needed it could recuperate with fresh air and the assurance that metal-head beasts would not be able to enter their room.

Only two rooms were currently occupied; Monk Eolos suffered a broken leg in one room, and the man Sig had brought had yet to wake from his coma in the room furthest from Monk Eolos.

It was not only for Monk Eolos' comfort, that. The man- Jak's- room was at the end of the hall, where only the faintest of noises would reach him. He would have peace, and there would be little to excite him. Seem's researches into eco poisoning stressed that calm was important, for such people. The pain they experienced, the unbalanced nature of their minds and bodies, meant that excitement was, generally, eventually lethal.

The amount of damage done to this man was horrific. Healer Monk Aetani had expressed considerable surprise that he was even still alive. Seem agreed with her diagnosis.

Asleep- or rather, in a coma- and on his back, covered only by a pair of light trousers and an even lighter sheet, the man did not look terrifying, precisely. More as something to be sympathetic towards. The danger of his claws, the unnatural nature of his horns and coloring, did not seem so extreme as they likely would when he was up and awake.

The only color on the bed was the patch of orange fur. The ottsel hadn't moved, Seem thought, though the food she had left on the bedside table had been eaten.

Sig made the small room even smaller when he walked in. Seem stayed in the doorway, hands folded in front of her, while the huge Wastelander crouched down beside the bed and ran two fingers over the ottsel's head.

"Well, cherry," Sig said. "You're making everyone here think you're mute."

The ottsel blinked (the first that Seem had seen) and appeared to relax. "Well," it said, its voice rasping somewhat, "you didn't exactly tell me nothing 'bout these people."

Seem's reaction was very slight, and only someone watching closely would have been able to tell she was surprised. Neither Sig nor the ottsel were even looking in her direction, so her secret was safe.

"I told you they were friends."

The ottsel flicked its tail. "You know what I meant."

Sig sighed, and waved at Seem. "Seem, this is Dax. Friend of mine, he's kept an eye on my back the past six months. Dax, this is Seem. She's the head honcho of the place."

The ottsel, Dax, turned that unwavering blue gaze on her again, but this time Seem wasn't disturbed by the intelligence therein. The ottsel had spoken with as much intelligence as many an Outsider as she had dealt with.

"Nice t' meet you. Y' couldn't have introduced us before?" the ottsel asked Sig.

"Didn't think to."

Seem let her eyes smile, even if her face never changed expression. This, she knew, was why the other monks insisted it was time for her to step down. The Outsiders had infected her with their ways; better to remove her before that infection spread throughout the ranks.

"Now that we are acquainted, no doubt we will have cause to share speech in the near future," Seem said. "You have seen your friend, Sig, and no doubt the king wishes you to return with all speed. I will walk you to your vehicle."

"Subtle as a brick." Sig stood up, nevertheless. "Duty calls, Dax. Don't go rabid on anyone, now."

The ottsel chuckled, and curled up again. Seem closed the door behind them, and nodded in the direction they were to walk.

"Alright," Sig said, once they were several minutes distant from the room. "What didn't you want to say in front of the cherry?"

Seem sighed, and risked rubbing her forehead. She checked her fingertips, but no paint had smeared onto her hands. "I do not know if your friend will awaken. The damage was... There was a great deal of it."

"From what I've heard, Jak's a fighter. From what I've seen, he ain't going to let no little thing like exhaustion and starvation keep him down."

"It is not only those," Seem said. "The dark eco is bad enough, for it warps and twists muscle, bone, and organ until..." Until the victims died. Often quickly, in screaming agony. This man, Jak, could only have suffered the touch of dark eco for several days, to still live and still appear mostly human.

"You'd never think it to look at him," Sig said. "I mean, I know he looks like he got dipped in a vat of bleach, and there's the fangs, an' claws, an' horns and all, but he still looks human."

"Do you know how long he suffered the dark eco's touch?" Healer Monk Aetani would want to know; Seem insisted on going to her for consultation, to ensure no mistakes were made in the man's care.

"Dax said... two years, back when we met. So two and six months."

Seem stopped in her tracks. "So long?" How?

"Apparently, the kid's a channeler."

Ah. Now that was interesting. "I will have to consult with Healer Monk Aetani," Seem murmured. She shook her head. "Well. As I said, it is not only the dark eco. No, they used blue eco upon him, too, and that has caused damage to his nerves and muscles. If they had hooked his body up to a live wire, there would have been less injury."

Sig shook his head. "Sucks," he said. "But Dax believes in him, and the cherry's not been wrong yet. Least-ways, not about the big things. He can be a bit off about the little ones, but paranoia's not bad when you're on the streets."

She supposed so, she had never been in such a situation. "However it goes, should your friend wake, it will be soon, or not at all," she said. "I must warn you, if he is yet in a coma in a year's time, and alive, he might be..." Killed.

It was Sig's turn to stop in his tracks, it seemed. "You wouldn't do that," he said. "You- Seem!"

"You are correct," she said. "I would not."

"Then why-?"

"Because I will no longer be head monk," she said, and gestured. "Come. Before one of the acolytes thinks to decorate your vehicle with leapers."

Sig folded his arms, but started walking. "You're quitting?"

"Retiring." The sunlight ahead made the sand appear golden. The heavy green and gray vehicle, that Sig called a 'grasshopper', appeared slightly less out of place than normal.

"Huh. You've only been in charge five years."

"Change is necessary for all things," Seem said. "Your own kings, prior to King Damas, did not last so long."

Sig rolled his eye, and climbed up into the 'grasshopper'. "Not the point. What're you going to do when you don't have to schedule every damn thing? Spend more time in Spargus?"

"Truly, I have not thought of it yet," she lied. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Perhaps I will seek your opinion closer to my retirement."

The 'grasshopper' started with a roar of its engines. "Hope so. See you, monk lady."

She bowed her head, and kept her eyes closed until she could no longer hear the vehicle.

* * *

_This arc- the Healing Arc- was a pain to write. I don't do quiet, interpersonal drama. It shows._

_On the personal front, I am looking for a job. This is not fun. I prewrite chapters for just this reason._


	10. Arc 2, Chapter 1

**Arc Two: Healing**  
**Week Two, Part One**

Jak knew when he woke up, that this time he'd stay awake.

What had happened? Images- fragments too chaotic to be memories- danced through his mind. He thought he remembered Daxter, but... His lips curved in a small, sad smile. He'd accepted his friend's death a long time ago. Only death could keep Dax from coming to get him.

He'd fallen too far for rescue, anyways. He rolled over on his side, ignoring a muffled 'omph' and soft thud down near his stomach, and closed his eyes.

"Jak," Dax whined, sounding _close_ and _real_, so much so that it hurt and he had to clench his eyes against the tears. "What the heck? I was sleeping there!"

"Sorry Dax," he said, in his new, horrible voice.

"Hrmph. This is the thanks I get? Run around Haven, make deals with crazy people, come out to the land of sand... An' all I get is a 'sorry Dax' and you going back to sleep? Not fair!"

His imagination was very good today, apparently. Jak tried, he sank his fangs into his lip, but still ended up whimpering. At least the tears didn't escape.

Footsteps, and he knew, just _knew_ they belonged to one of the Guards, someone who'd poke him with that electrical prod to get him up. He braced for the pain- and felt tiny hands brush over one cheek, along the top of an ear, only to tug at the end.

His eyes snapped open, and he gaped at the hallucination in orange and yellow standing in front of him.

"What'd you go an' do that for?" Dax asked, reaching down to touch his bleeding lip.

Jak breathed slowly and evenly, watching how his breath ruffled the fur on Dax's wrist. He'd never imagined anything this real before. "Dax?" he whispered, for the first time realizing exactly how terrible he sounded. Like he'd eaten a bucket of nails the night before, or went and gargled with gravel.

"Mm?" Dax made a sound, something that seemed to be equal parts frustration, exhaustion, and amusement, and started petting the hair at Jak's temple.

"Are you real?"

He'd expected a reaction; maybe a show of indignity, complete with ranting and stomping around, with insults and empty threats thrown in. Instead, he got a tired smile and more petting. "Jak," Dax said, "I hurt too much to be fake."

Hurt?

He'd learnt economy of motion in the prison, and out of it. Unless he was mostly dead, his movements were always smooth, using only as much energy as was necessary and no more. Maybe that was why Dax squeaked and flinched when he sat up and grabbed his friend around the middle. At least, Jak hoped that was why, and not the fact that he _knew_ what he looked like.

"You're hurt?" he asked, peering closely at Dax's stomach, rubbing his thumb gently against the yellow fur to part the hairs and show the skin.

"Hey, hey! Cut it out!" Dax pushed at Jak's thumb, but didn't wiggle much. "Nothing big, just a few owchies that I got in the past. Sometimes they tingle, 'specially when we're going to get a sandstorm by evening. Annoying, but hey. What're you gonna do?"

Jak growled, and pulled his friend close.

Then he realized.

This was Dax. Dax was real.

Dax... Dax had saved him.

He looked over the small room- sand colored walls, made out of some kind of rock, one window to his left, one door to his right, bed smack in the middle, nothing on the walls or floor to make it even remotely interesting- and then back at his friend. "Dax?" he asked, the voice of a monster quavering slightly.

"Hey, big guy," Dax said, and grinned up at him. He shifted from Jak's grip, clambering up to perch on Jak's bare shoulder. "I gotcha. It's okay."

Jak closed his eyes, and turned his head. Dax wouldn't mention it if he pulled away from the hug with wet patches in his fur.

"I thought you were dead," he rasped out.

"Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to take so long."

Jak breathed in, a long, shuddering gasp that brought Dax's scent through his nose directly to his brain. How many times, how many close calls, had he done this and been calmed down? Dax was... Well, Dax wasn't a coward, but he didn't hang around dangerous places. Dax's scent meant safety, because if Dax was willing to relax... then the place was safe.

Simple as that.

Dax worked both hands into Jak's hair, and started flexing his fingers. Jak groaned, feeling the ghostly touch of ottsel claws against his scalp. It felt good. Nothing had felt good for a long time. Pleasure sent tingles up and down his spine, tightening the skin in his back and making him want to melt into a boneless puddle of eco and mush.

"Like that, do you?" Dax asked, and chuckled.

"Mm," Jak managed, and nodded very slightly. He felt pressure against one horn- was Dax _pulling_ on it- and realized too late that his friend was now perched on top of his head, a horn in each hand.

"Huh," Dax said. "These could be pretty useful. Built in handholds."

"Dax," Jak warned, and reached up to pull the ottsel off.

No go. Dax let out a cackle that should by rights have set Jak's hair on end, then scampered down Jak's back, claws skittering over skin and scars in a way that made him jerk and twitch and try to pull away.

It was like old times, trying to catch an ottsel that didn't want to be caught, and knew every ticklish spot Jak had. He realized he'd barked out a laugh, then did it again. And again.

Until he collapsed backwards, Dax perched on his chest looking smug. Jak reached up, and carefully wrapped one hand around Dax's back (until his thumb brushed over his fingertips, but details).

Dax's smug look softened into something that made Jak's throat tighten and the corners of his eyes sting, so he looked away. "Where...?"

"Spargus," Dax said. "Little place outside Haven, where all the exiles go. If they survive the initiation, they're in. I, uh, kind of said we'd join up, when you're better."

Jak took a deep breath, and shrugged one shoulder. "Why not? After Praxis is dead, though. And Erol."

"Knew you'd say that," Dax said, and sounded smug again.

Jak half-closed his eyes, and relaxed back on the soft bed (soft bed! Some inner self started giggling- probably his inner child) and hummed.

It was quiet, for a short time. He should've guessed Dax would get bored.

"Jak?"

"Mm?"

He felt Dax squirm out of his hold, but that was okay. The ottsel didn't go far, only a little to the side. Then he felt a small claw trace over one of his scars.

"Does it hurt?"

Jak opened his eyes, and looked down at Dax. He'd heard his friend use that voice before- small, quietly worried, sounding like a whimpering croca-dog looked- and hated it. "Not anymore," he whispered.

Dax blinked, his eyes looking impossibly big and blue. "But they did?"

No point in lying. "Yeah."

"... 'member when mom used to kiss our hurts away?" Dax asked, his ears drooping.

Jak just pressed his fingers against his friend's back. Dax's mom had died when they'd been young; he wondered exactly how many memories Dax had of her. He was slightly older, and probably had more.

It didn't seem fair.

"Yeah," he said, and swallowed.

Then he saw the little devil that was dancing in Dax's eyes, and reminiscence went out the window.

Fast.

"Want me to kiss 'em better?" Dax crooned, caressing the scar he was touching.

"Dax!"

His friend cackled (again) and _licked the scar_.

Jak yelped and caught nothing but air.

Half an hour later, Dax quieted down. Jak pinned the ottsel to his chest with both hands, and kept his eyes shut.

If he didn't think about it, it hadn't happened.

Even if it had felt kind of nice.

* * *

Dax waited until Jak was asleep again, and then slid out from beneath his friend's hands until he stood right next to his buddy's head.

"Hey, cherry."

"Sig!" Dax lifted his ears, and grinned at the Wastelander. "Did you see? Jak was awake!"

Sig grinned right back. "Saw me a right sane chili pepper," he said. "Tail end of it, anyways."

Dax caressed one ebony horn. "It's the longest he's been awake in a week," he said. "He's been waking up for a few minutes at a time, long enough to pour water and broth in him, but..."

But. But those periods of awake seemed to come after longer and longer stretches of asleep, and seemed to be shorter besides.

Next thing he knew, large, blunt nails were scraping against his shoulders in one of _the best_ back scratches he'd gotten in a _long_ time.

"Hey there, cherry. Relax. Everything's good." Sig tapped one finger against Dax's shoulder. "He seems pretty sane to me."

"Yeah." It was one hell of a relief. "So, a storm's coming."

"I've been told." Sig's face was studiously blank, when Dax glanced up at him. "Mind if I wait it out here, cherry? Apparently I bother the natives."

"Someone's got to fill me in on the gossip."

Sig nodded, then crossed the room to settle down by the wall. "Well, not much to tell. Things've been pretty quiet. Our sewer friend was a bit upset, us leaving sudden like that, but he calmed down once I explained."

Sewer friend, sewer friend... Oh, right, Torn. "Did you explain with, or without, the heavy armament?"

"Without. I figured, hey, he's been straight with us so far. No need to be nasty."

Dax grinned, and curled up on Jak's chest. Jak had woken up! Hopefully Sig wouldn't comment on the purring.

He'd just started to drift off, lulled by the sounds of Sig taking his gun apart and cleaning it, and Jak's breathing, when the shutter over the window chose that exact moment to rattle in its frame. Dax shot up onto all fours, claws digging into Jak's chest with a fury.

Jak grunted, twitched (and for anyone else it was a full out spasm), and knocked Dax flying with one flailing hand. Dax twisted mid-air, braced for a sudden stop on slate tiles-

-And Sig reached out with one big hand, and managed to catch him inches from the floor.

Dax sighed, and relaxed. "Thanks, Sig." He glanced up at the rattling shutter. "Eesh."

"Alright there, cherry?"

"I've had worse knocks."

Sig let Dax down, and frowned. "From Jak?"

From-? "You're kidding, right? No. And don't tell Jak. He'd hate himself, until I'd gone mute assuring him that it wasn't his fault. Because it wasn't." After all, Dax had known a storm was coming. He'd weathered a few of them already. He should've known better than to dig his claws into flesh and friend.

Sig rubbed at the skin just over his optic, but nodded. Dax sighed, grinned, and scrambled back up to his spot on Jak's chest. Just in time, too, since the door slid open. Again.

Seem took three steps in, then seemed to notice the extra person in the room. "Sig. I was not informed of your arrival."

Dax peered closely at his friend. Did Sig actually look relieved, there?

Trick of the light. Had to be. Two candle stubs clearly weren't enough.

"Yeah, well. I figured I'd visit with the cherry, here. Wait out the storm."

Seem nodded, and looked over at Dax. "Company is good for you."

"Jak woke up!" Dax grinned, and balanced on his hind legs. Surely that deserved an ear scratching. "And was completely sane, if a little out of it." And talking. Jak, talking. He'd let that sink in a little more.

Seem's lips actually curved in a smile. "This is very good, then." She traced a finger over his forehead, almost as good as a scratch, and peered at Jak's face. "When he next wakes, I hope to speak with him. There are questions I must ask, to be certain of the proper treatment."

"I won't let him doze off until you get here," Dax promised.

Sig heaved himself to his feet in the background, to finish fitting his Peacemaker together. "How long until he can stay awake long enough to walk around?"

Seem turned, and frowned. "I cannot say. The eco warps all predictions."

Sig's eyebrows went up, and he shrugged one shoulder. "As you say. Let me know when he's up and about. He needs to practice, and I figure I can take a thumping."

Dax's eyes widened when Seem reached forward, and positively bulged when she rested her hand on the big guy's arm. "Perhaps not immediately," she said. "As I say, the eco warps all predictions. We shall see. But your offer is kind, and will be kept in mind."

Sig nodded, and tilted his head. "Wind's changing. Storm must've been a short one, or spent before it got here."

"Such frequently occurs." Seem stepped back, and folded her hands. "I should walk you to your vehicle."

"No need." Sig shouldered his gun, and nodded to Dax. "I'll see you soon, cherry. Seem."

Seem turned to watch him leave, then looked back at Dax. And frowned.

"You may stop smiling any time now."

"So, you and Sig..."

Seem drew herself up to her full height, two inches shorter than Dax's old height. "There is nothing but respect," she said. "I am the one who speaks to the outsiders, and he is the most frequent visitor."

Dax waited until she'd left before indulging in a laugh. "Is there such a thing as denying too much?" he asked Jak.

Jak, asleep, gave no reply.

At least the winds had quieted down. Dax curled up, pillowed his head on one of Jak's hands, and slept.

* * *

_I actually like this chapter more than the rest in this arc. Unfortunately for you, my dear readers, I'm going to warn you right now- short chapters are to be expected for this arc. Cue banging my head off the desk._

_I had a job interview last week. So hopefully I'll have a "you have a job" confirmation this week. My fingers are crossed. In the mean time, leave a review, let me know what you think of the chapter._


	11. Arc 2, Chapter 2

**Arc Two: Healing**  
**Week Two, Part Two**

Jak had drifted off to the warm place, where he drifted between asleep and awake. The mattress cradled his body, the sheets had been kicked to the foot of the bed where they covered him ankles to claws, and Dax was a warm, fluffy ball of comatose ottsel. He purred in his sleep, when he didn't snore.

He was tired of sleeping, but his body demanded more rest. He remembered, faintly, feeling like this before. He'd been much younger, and had met Dax not long after the fever that had threatened his life. Samos had said he'd lost memories, from that fever, but there probably hadn't been many to lose. He'd only been five or six. And he'd made up for them, even if it'd taken a while before he could keep up with the red haired bundle of energy he'd befriended.

Dax had been surprisingly understanding, for a little kid, that his new friend was first, mute, and second, too tired to do much. At first. The fever had whittled him down to skin and bone, but his strength and endurance had returned only a little slower than his flesh. By the time he was back to normal, he was leaving Dax in the dust.

Jak shifted, drawing Dax closer. The ottsel squeaked, flexed a hand against Jak's chest, and fell back to his snoring.

He almost didn't notice when the door slid open. Almost. Sleep vanished; calm remained, but it was the patient, predatory calm of a wild animal, armed with claws and fangs and will to live. His eyes cracked open, just enough that he could see without his vision being blurred by his eyelashes, not so much it would draw attention.

The woman was nearly silent as she approached the bed. To most, she would have been entirely quiet, but his sharp ears could catch the tread of her feet against the ground and her soft breathing. "Daxter?" she murmured. There was obvious respect in the query. "Daxter, please wake up. I have brought more water."

Jak tensed, claws curling up around his friend like a cage of lethal thorns. A low warning rumbled in his throat, even as he opened his eyes further.

Calm red eyes met his. "Good afternoon. You are in a temple, Jak, and none of us will bring harm upon you or your friend." She kept her distance, and kept the carafe of water held low in her hands.

His upper lip curled away from his fangs, even as he shifted into something that was more of a crouch than human anatomy was normally comfortable with. He looked a bit too comfortable in the pose. The ottsel was held, carefully, against his chest with a single hand, and the other looked more than capable of gutting a metal-head.

Or a man.

The woman continued to regard him without change of expression, or fear in her eyes. "No harm will be brought upon you, or they all will shame me."

Jak would have moved, but for the lazy twitch of a muscular tail against his arm. He tilted his head and looked down, just in time for Dax to glare up at him. Jak pinned his ears back against his head, and let his fangs vanish behind his lips again.

Dax closed his eye, and Jak looked up, but this time he seemed almost sheepish.

"Your friend has been quite worried," The woman said, unsure if the previous look would appear when Daxter proved unresponsive. "I would hope that you will consent to drinking water and taking a meal, though I know you have no reason to trust my word."

Jak's eyes narrowed again, but his head shifted slightly when he glanced towards the night stand. He could smell, very faintly, dried meat and the wet not-scent of water. His stomach clenched in hunger, too far gone to actually growl anymore.

"Who are you?" he asked, the words tearing their way from his throat, and coming out mangled and bloody.

"I am called Seem. I am the head of the Precursor Monks. We will serve as your hosts for as long as you desire, and against any comers."

One eyebrow twitched as he deciphered what she'd said, before falling back into his default scowl. "I see." That didn't feel like enough of a response. "I won't stay long."

"I do hope you will stay until Daxter has time to reassure himself that you are well. He searched for you for three years, and seems convinced that you will vanish should he be more than two feet away."

One deadly finger traced over the top of Dax's head, barely ruffling the fur. "He's... like that." Always had been, despite a tendency to complain, whine, and drive everyone else up a wall. Some people blustered when they were terrified, some people ran away... Dax clung to Jak and whined. "He's... He's ill."

"He requires someone more stubborn than I to tend to him. He has refused all but the most basic necessities as of late, and appeared to talk without ceasing for three weeks."

Once more, his ears pressed back against his head. "Because of me," he whispered. His voice didn't sound nearly as bad, when he spoke quietly.

"Because he is the type to worry very much about those he holds dear," she corrected. "Should you wish to help him, please sit down and coax him into waking. He needs to drink and eat."

Jak frowned, but shifted from the spine-bending crouch, to something a little more human. "Fine." He ruffled Dax's fur, and leaned closer. "Dax? It's time to wake up."

It took a few minutes, but finally Dax shifted and opened his eyes again. They were dull, almost cloudy, and stared up at Jak without recognition. At least there wasn't fear. Jak watched as Dax looked around the room, clearly looking for clues as to his location, before fixing on the monk.

"'ey, Seem. What're you doing here?" Dax asked, voice rasping almost as badly as Jak's.

"I am attempting to convince you and your friend that there are merits to consuming water."

Jak growled, which only got him a flick of Dax's ear. "Its water," the ottsel pointed out. He hauled himself up to a sitting position, with the aid of Jak's fingers. "What's not to like?"

"Cacti juice is also available."

Dax blinked, and looked up at Jak. "I like juice," he said. "An' you need all the sweet you can get, bud."

Jak wasn't going to argue that. "Juice," he agreed, and eyed the monk. "You're the head monk?"

"Yes, I am."

"Everyone else too scared to come in?"

"Don't sneer, your face'll stick."

"I believe another visitor will arrive shortly. Daxter, I will leave you to introductions. I will inform the kitchen that we require juice."

Jak raised his eyebrows, and looked down at Dax. Dax, unfortunately, looked innocent, and no amount of prodding would crack the expression.

The monk, Seem, returned and left a pitcher of cloudy, red liquid and a platter of flat bread and dried meat. She didn't stay long. Jak wasn't sure, but he might not have minded if she'd stayed. She hadn't backed down before a monster, and Dax seemed to trust her.

The cactus juice wasn't sweet, exactly; it reminded him of cranberries too much for that. Tart, that was the word. It was almost too much for him, after the prison. Food there had been bland, and minimal.

"Go at it slow, Jak," Dax advised. "Small sips, an' some bread and meat between." He took a mouthful of his own, though Jak noticed Dax appeared to be avoiding the meat.

He grunted in reply, and managed, clumsily, to roll the meat and bread together, then maneuver the whole thing to his mouth. His claws were easily as long as his fingers, maybe slightly longer. It wasn't the easiest task he'd had to deal with recently.

His stomach woke up at the food. Dax twitched an ear at the intestinal growl, but didn't comment. A good thing, Jak supposed. His temper was... well. He didn't want to hurt Dax. He didn't think he ever would, but why risk it?

Dax munched and drank, and after a few minutes Jak realized the ottsel was matching the human's pace. He raised an eyebrow, and speared one of the meat slices with a claw.

"You need some of this."

"Yeah." Dax sighed, and took the slice of meat. "Protein. Yay. I'd be happier if it didn't taste like old boot."

"It's not so bad."

"Jak," Dax said, sounding exhausted all over again. "You're bigger 'n me. It's easier for you to chew old boot."

Jak shook his head, and watched his friend eat.

They had stretched out on the bed again, meal eaten and pitcher of juice drained to the last drop, when the door opened again. Jak cracked open one eye, muscles tense even if he didn't react, but it was only Seem.

She bowed very slightly, and crossed the room to stand near the bed. "Unfortunately, the visitor I expected did not appear. I did not wish to leave you waiting for someone who would not come."

Someone who wouldn't come... Jak almost flinched. Almost. Dax _had_ come, in the end, even if it had been too late. But that _wasn't_ Dax's fault. Dax was a two foot tall ottsel. He'd been up against the prison and the KG and Erol and the entire city. It was amazing he'd managed to find Jak at all, help or no.

"Jak?" The monk extended one hand, and his gaze immediately snapped back to her. "You are growling," she said, and glanced at Dax. "Has something upset you?"

"He left me," Jak snarled, and then he did flinch. No, Dax had- no.

"When?" Seem asked.

He swallowed, and checked that Dax was asleep. "When I- the guards caught me," he whispered, trembling. Dax was his friend, his best friend. Dax had saved him. He was an ungrateful, worthless little shit was what he was. "He said he'd come back for me." And he _had_.

The monk folded her hands, and knelt down on the floor. "You are upset that you spent time in prison, undergoing torture," she said. "Yes?"

He nodded, because there was no way he could talk at the moment.

"You survived, because you wished to be stubborn. Because your friend had said he would come back- rescue you."

He nodded again.

The monk sighed, and looked at the floor. "It is reasonable to be angry, after such a change in your circumstances. You were treated less than human by those who, by rights, should have been protecting the city and all within the walls. You were hurt, and you are angry now. You will be slow to recover. And your friend has arrived, and seen you freed of torture, but... too late, perhaps?"

Jak flinched, again, and closed his eyes.

"You are not worthless." The monk sounded closer now, but he didn't look. "You have a strength of will that enabled you to survive what countless others have succumbed to. You have loyalty and courage, and one hopes you have wisdom or will soon develop it.

"You will feel angry with your friend at times, when you think of what you have lost, but you must also think of what you have gained. You know that your friend did not give up on you, when many others would have written you off as dead after the first year. You know complete strangers were willing to help, and others willing to give you sanctuary. You know that despite what was done to you, what your enemies tried to turn you into, you are not a monster, and never will be."

He opened his eyes, and blinked. "What?"

The monk nodded, and the corners of her mouth twitched. "Monsters do not feel guilt. They do not worry about hurting others. You, Dark One, are as human as any of my monks, or any of the warriors of Spargus. Hold to this truth, and to another. Your friend Daxter loves you, enough to do the impossible for you. Be angry at those who deserve your anger."

"Thank you," Jak said. He swallowed, and carefully brushed his fingers over Dax's back. "I... Thanks."

She gave him an unreadable look, but nodded. "Rest well. I will bring you a larger morning meal; I believe it is time you started to put some weight back on."

Jak settled back down next to Dax, and stared at the wall. He was angry... But not with Dax. Not really. If Dax had stayed, he would've been killed. As it was... Dax was alive. Jak was free. Erol and Praxis were going to die.

He closed his eyes, and slept.

* * *

Dax waited until Jak's breathing evened out, and then shifted so he could look up at his face. "Aw, Jak," he whispered.

He hadn't known. It hadn't even occurred to him. But he'd been a coward, those years back. There could've been something he'd have done, something that would've let Jak run and hide. Instead, well, Jak ended up in prison. The streets had been punishment, but knowing Jak was angry was worse.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. There had to be a way to make it up to his friend. There just had to. And he would. Just as soon as he figured out how.

* * *

_Yet another short chapter- I'm so sorry. On the last chapter, there were some surprised comments that Jak was being so sane. Yup, he is. No triggers, aye? Don't worry, you'll see. The Renegade Arc is going to be fun!_

_So, I'm sure everyone's noticed the most recent changes to FanFiction-dot-net. I've been trying to get used to them, but it's very, very difficult. That said, while I'll continue to post Monster here on this website, I'll not be posting anything new here. Once I figure out if it'll be DevArt, LiveJournal, Archive of our Own, or what, I'll let you know._

_And for those curious- no. I still don't have a job. Any tips for winning the lottery?_


	12. Arc 2, Chapter 3

**Arc the Second: Healing**  
**Week Three**

"I do not understand this."

"It's Jak."

"It should not be possible."

"He does that."

"First the dark eco should have killed you."

"You know, the impossible."

"Then, it should not be possible to shed the damage the eco did to you."

"A lot."

"Daxter!" Seem glared at the ottsel. "Do you not take this seriously?"

Dax rolled his eyes, and jerked his head in Jak's direction. "I'm taking it seriously. I just don't see why freaking out over all the reasons why this is impossible is a good idea."

Seem hesitated, and looked over at the source of their conversation. Jak was staring at his hands as if he had never seen them before, turning them over again and again, flexing his fingers... Every so often he would reach up to swipe his hair back behind his ears, but he would be distracted in feeling for horns that no longer existed.

"I am not 'freaking out'," she muttered.

"Sure you're not." Dax twitched his tail. "This is Jak. Jak does impossible things. Because he can."

"I can _hear_ you," Jak said.

"Good, babe. Help me out here. Seem should stop freaking out."

Jak looked up, and narrowed his eyes. They were blue. Dax wondered when Jak would start asking about little details like that. "Both of you should cut it out."

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! I'm not doing anything!"

"Hell you're not."

Seem hid a smile behind her fingers. Dax glared at her.

The door opened, and Sig stepped through.

"Sig!" Dax jumped from the nightstand to Seem's shoulder, to Sig's. The monk seemed rather startled at being used as a stepping stone; the Wastelander took Dax's sudden appearance on his shoulder as a matter of course. "Guess what Jak learnt to do! He figured out how to turn the darky-sparky on an' off, like a lamp!"

Sig lifted one eyebrow, and looked over at Jak. "So I see. Should your hands be sparking like that, chili pepper?"

Dax looked over as well, and almost flinched. Jak looked _feral_, and he wasn't even fully darked out yet. His lips were pulled back from his teeth, eyes as wide as they were going to get with his eyebrows scrunched down like that. His fingers were crooked into claws, and tiny threads of dark eco crackled from hand to hand.

"Jak." In contrast to his heart, which was racing a mile a minute, Dax's voice was almost monotone. "Cut it out. Sig helped rescue you."

Jak transferred that _look_ to Dax, then blinked and seemed to mentally back up a few steps. "I- he did?" A shudder wracked the big guy's entire body, and he looked down at the floor, expression all twisted up with confusion and a welter of emotions Dax couldn't quite decipher.

_Ah hell. And I thought this was a good sign._ Dax jumped down to the floor, and kept going until he'd curled up in Jak's lap.

"It's okay, buddy. I know you don't like people so much anymore, but Sig's a good one. He's my friend, y'know, so you can trust him."

And there was no way in hell to read the look Jak directed Sig's way at that. "Your friend, huh?" Jak rested his hand on Dax's back. "Alright."

Dax sighed, and shared a glance with Everyone Not Jak. Well, he figured the stress from prison would have to show up sooner or later.

* * *

Sig hadn't meant to send the guy flying- okay, yeah, he had. But the little guy had started it. One minute Sig's walking down the hallway to make sure Seem had eaten something, next he'd been pinned against the wall by a short guy with a big attitude. A few down and dirty moves later, Sig was no longer staring into twin, pissed off voids.

"Mighty big claws you got there, chili pepper, but I'm not gonna be hurting Daxter's best friend."

Jak hesitated, and then stepped forward. "What have you done to him?"

Oh, boy. Were there memory problems here? "What've I done to Daxter? Generally he did more to me. He borrowed a lot of connections and my shoulder guard while we were searching the city looking for you."

"He's quiet. He's _never_ quiet." Jak's voice lowered to a deadly hiss. "Unless someone's hit him."

That explained a lot, actually.

"I imagine he's tired after the days he's spent sitting here running his mouth off hoping you'd wake up to hear him." Sig didn't bat his eye at the menace in the other's tone. "You can go on and be sure he's unhurt. I won't go anywhere."

"He's quiet even when he's talking," Jak said, but it wasn't so threatening as before. "He's not... He's not. He's different. And he's spent the most time with _you_."

So their Dark Warrior did feel emotions that weren't rage. It wasn't a great range to be directed at Sig but it was better than finding an automaton. "I was the only person in a mood to help him out. Believe me, I'm not going to have him back as a full-time friend with you as competition, and I won't try. He needs you, Jak, he really does."

"He's hurt. He doesn't move as much. Now _tell me what you did_!"

"His arm popped out at the shoulder couple weeks back. You might have better luck getting it to go back in right." He might get killed for less injury than that but he'd go down an honest man.

Back to the deadly hiss. "And just how did he dislocate his shoulder?"

"He fell off a wall when we were trying to get you out of there. There wasn't time to set it proper with KG all over."

Jak flinched back, and made a high, injured sound.

That sound... it was like the man really had been reduced to an animal. Even Dax didn't sound that much like a wild beastie. "He's healed alright, he's fine," Sig promised. "No point in trying to re-do it, and anyways you're a bit too pointy right now to go grabbing anyone."

"I can..." Jak looked down at his hands. "I just have to be calm." It was difficult for a clawed, fanged, monster of a man to sound like a five year old. He managed it anyways.

"Alright then. Dax is out already, might as well wait for you to be up to helping him out."

"But... You... Why are you... I don't like you." Why, why, why did the terror of Haven have to look like a kid's pet? One of those cabbit things with the black eyes, big ears, and tendency to chew on anything left out on the floor.

"Don't have to like me, cherry. I'll do what I can to help Dax and his own, and Dax cares a lot about you."

Jak stared at him, confusion and fury warring for supremacy of his face. Confusion won. He hissed, and ducked back into his room.

Sig rubbed a hand over his face. They weren't paying him enough for this.

* * *

_Updating this early, because I'm going to be away for the next week, when I had scheduled to post this chapter. So you get it this week instead of next. Huzzah!_

_Next chapter posted on the 16th of July._


	13. Arc 2, Chapter 4

**Arc the Second: Healing**  
**Week Four**

"Jak?" Dax almost hesitated before jumping onto the bed. Almost. Jak was... Well, Jak was Not!Jak right now, all pale skin and black eyes, which okay was more than a little creepy. But Not!Jak was still _Jak_ under it all. And hesitating around Jak, hesitating about getting close to Jak, that was just stupid.

Jak looked over, and cupped one hand (with the very long nails- oh joy) around Dax's back. "Yeah?"

At least he didn't sound like he'd eaten a bucket of nails anymore. Just like he wanted to kill the whole world and smash what was left.

Dax swallowed, and leaned forward against his buddy's thumb. It was there, it was the right size to lean against, it was a normal action. Not something a guy afraid of said thumb would do. Ergo, he did it.

_Wouldn't be so bad if he weren't hunting metal-heads in the lower levels._

And, y'know, winning. Bare handed. Not even Sig was crazy enough to go after metal-heads of any kind without a weapon.

Dax smiled, and shrugged one shoulder. His good shoulder. Not that he was trying to avoid use of his bad shoulder, it was only, just, you know. The storms played havoc and he was tired of feeling stiff and sore.

Jak frowned. "Dax?"

And that, right there, was when Dax realized he had a problem.

The changes meant he couldn't read Jak. Just- not the little, subtle twitches and looks and shifts.

But Jak, oh yeah, _Jak_ could read _Dax_.

Like an open book.

And now was really not the time to panic about that, except Dax didn't panic. Dax did worry, and okay, yeah, maybe he was a little worried about not being able to read his best friend's tells anymore, because Jak had gone from 'scowl and stomp off, maybe throw a punch' to 'snarl and tear the problem's head off' and it'd be nice to know when that was coming up, but-

"Dax." Jak shifted, cradled Dax in his arms. "Breathe."

"Uh. Yeah. Right. Sorry."

One clawed finger smoothed down the back of Dax's head. "What is it?"

Four weeks, Dax thought. And Jak, well, Jak had put on the pounds, hadn't he? Come in a skeleton, four weeks later (on a minimal diet, no less) and he looked like Captain Muscles, King of the Bench Press Challenges.

How'd he do that?

"Just. Y'know, we've been here a while, and here is nice, don't get me wrong, but the monks, I don't think they're very interesting people. Must get their personalities removed before joining up. Except Seem. Monk-boy's pretty chill, but actually reacts to things." And yes. Dax knew very well Seem was a girl. Calling her a boy was the only thing that had made any of the other face-painted nutbars react.

Kinda funny, that.

Jak raised his eyebrows, eyes unreadable. "You want to leave."

"Uh, yeah. Just said so, didn't I?" Dax shook his head, and sighed. "Bud, you need to listen better."

"You didn't, actually."

"Didn't what? I listen! I listen a lot, you'd be surprised at what I listen to, except there's nothing here except chanting and humming and metal-heads having sex. Why the hell would metal-heads have sex, they don't have genders. They're like, it things. The hell?"

Ah, now that was an expression Dax recognized. Jak was trying to decipher Dax language, and getting nowhere.

"Metal-heads have- never mind. I don't want to know." And that wasn't a decipherable look, that was completely new and probably limited to horns and freaky-but-not-scary black eyes look. "You want to leave?"

Well, if Dax needed proof that Jak was still Jak... "Yes," he said. "I think leaving would be a good idea. There's... Look, Jak. Haven... Haven sucks, and you want to hurt people there, and I get that. I do. I support that idea and if I could I'd be putting rat poison in coffee cups and there'd be a rash of people falling over dead." Because he couldn't hurt anyone physically, no, unless maybe he tripped someone at the top of the stairs and he'd done that once, and... Yeah, not thinking about it.

A skull going smash against concrete sounded just like a coconut getting hit with a hammer. Just saying.

"It's just," Dax said, a little slower now. Feeling things out. This time, he didn't want to hear what he was saying same time everyone else did. "There are people there. Good people. I've seen them, I've worked with them some, and they need... help."

Oh boy, did they. Because four weeks was a lot of time to think, and think he had.

Torn... The Underground... Dax could see what they wanted to do. Stop the Baron, save the city- good goals, great goals, the problem was the Baron was kind of psycho and wanted to kill everyone, wanted to control everything, and let's face it. People like that? Tend to be paranoid.

And if Jak was going to be fighting the Baron and Erol and the KG _anyways_, why not help the people, work with the people, doing the _exact same thing_?

Jak raised his eyebrows, then lowered them. "Help, huh? Wanna tell me about them?"

Dax grinned, and flopped bonelessly over Jak's forearm. No ear scratches, but- and oh, yeah, Jak was being very careful and scratching along Dax's spine and wait, no melting just yet.

He started talking. His words might've slurred some, but Jak was used to that.

* * *

Jak wanted to hit something.

He could. He remembered flashes, punching things. Breaking them, breaking people, breaking his hands and feet and-

Reducing the Monk's temple to ruins probably wasn't polite. Probably.

Even if he really, really wanted to.

Dax was asleep, curled up on the pillow. Tail over his nose, arms and legs tucked in close to his body, as small as he could get.

He'd slept like that every night Jak could remember. That wasn't how he'd used to sleep. Even when traveling all over the world, up mountains and under the ocean, lurkers and lurkers and _more lurkers_ around every corner, he'd slept sprawled out. On his back, side, stomach- didn't matter, Dax took up as much space as he could. It'd been surprising, confusing, at how one little ottsel could take over an entire bed, but he did it.

Not anymore, apparently. Now, he curled up, twitched a little. Slept less. Used to be, he'd go down when the sun did, wake up long after the sun was in the sky. Now? Yeah, now Jak fell asleep to Dax talking, and woke up to the same, and had hazy, half-asleep memories of listening to yet more talk.

Except for times like now, when Dax's nervous energy ran out, and he collapsed.

Jak sat on the bed, and watched his friend sleep.

Dax was scared. He'd been too- something, before, to notice. Really notice. Notice the way Dax had that little glimmer in his eyes, the same one he had facing bullies and lurkers and Seem.

_I'm scared, I'm scared of you and I'm scared of pain but if I let myself be scared worse things will happen to me, so I'm not going to be afraid._

Jak... had always stood between Dax and the things that frightened him. Dax had been a small, scrawny orphan, passed off and passed around the village, never staying with anyone for more than a month. He'd _needed_ Jak, and honestly Jak had needed him, someone to protect and translate for the little mute boy, someone to spend time with, someone who'd keep the silence away at night because he didn't know how to shut up.

Even as a kid, Jak had nightmares. He almost wished he could remember them, but... No, probably better to forget.

And now Dax was directing that look, that "I'm scared but I won't let myself be scared" look at Jak.

How could he stand between his friend and himself?

He couldn't. That was the problem, wasn't it?

Jak reached up and tugged on one horn. He felt the pull all the way to the base of his neck. Fused to his skull, he thought, or part of the skull. Probably part of it. Horrible, but there you were. His claws were... Well, he didn't know, but they didn't break, even if they were six inches long. Maybe nine inches. He hadn't exactly measured them.

And Dax was afraid of him, and afraid of things sneaking up on him when he slept (why else curl up as small as you could go?) and Jak didn't know how to _fix_ that.

The mattress ripped under his claws. He hadn't even realized he'd dug them in.

"Nng. Jak?"

And now he'd woken Dax.

"Go back to sleep."

"Can't." Familiar response. Jak didn't look over at the uncoiling ball of fur. "Bud, what... What's wrong?"

If he looked over, if he saw the hidden fear, Jak thought he just might lose it. Lose his thoughts, lose his emotions to the black tide waiting to pull him under, lose what little control he had left.

A small, incredibly fragile hand came to rest on his cheek.

Jak gasped, like he'd been holding his breath, like he'd been swimming under the ocean and only just came up for air. There wasn't a choice; he looked up, looked over, and Dax was there, fur all scrunched up as he stared at Jak. Like maybe that would let him figure out what was going on in that horned skull.

"Dax," he breathed, and gathered the ottsel up.

"Going to tell me what's wrong?"

Jak closed his eyes. "You're afraid of me."

"What? No. Of course I'm not."

"I can-" he stopped, fangs gritting together, and that hurt. Grounded him. "I can see it. I'm not blind, Dax. You're scared."

He could feel his friend's breath on his neck. It was nice, familiar; when Dax climbed onto his shoulder and balanced there, he felt something click into place. That was familiar too, and better, because it was Dax and he could smell ottsel fur and coarse soap, and feel the weight of trust and friendship and...

"I'm not afraid of you," Dax said. He worked one hand into the hair at Jak's temple, and slowly carded his tiny claws through. Jak's scalp tingled. "I'm... I'm adjusting, sure. It was easy before, Jak. I could read your every expression, even the subtle ones you didn't know you were making. Now I can't. I don't know what's going to set you off. How can I diffuse a situation if I don't know it needs diffusing?"

Huh? Jak cracked one eye open, and squinted over at Dax. Okay, more explanation, please?

Dax, the jerk, grinned. "Well! Think about it, bud. It's not like your temper's a new thing. Just, y'know, the whole clawing thing? That's new. And kind of dangerous."

What? Well, yeah, he'd always- but what?

"You never noticed? Jeez, bud. And here I thought I was only as subtle as a boulder through the window."

"Boulders aren't subtle."

"My point entirely."

"Dax."

The ottsel grinned. "Look. It's pretty simple. I knew when you were going to throw a punch before, and let's face it, if you'd gotten into fights with everyone and their brother back then? You'd have been grounded forever and a half, I'd probably still be wearing pants, and Gol and Maia would've drowned the world in dark eco."

"Your logic doesn't exist."

"Technically, it's mine, and you just don't understand it. Not the point. Point is, I know how to, eh, diffuse the bomb."

If he hadn't known what a bomb was, that metaphor wouldn't have flown. But he did, he remembered seeing one (getting too close to one that exploded, owch) so he kind of got it.

"I'm not a bomb."

Dax gave him a _look_. It was new. Jak wondered where- and from who- Dax had picked that one up. "You are when armed with eco, and when haven't you been?"

"Uh-"

"Exactly. Anyways, bomb. Diffuse. My job. Except now I can't tell when you're about to flip your lid and tear things apart, and if we go into the city- I need to know. It's... I get angry there, Jak, and I'm me."

"You get angry."

"Not like this."

Jak frowned, and stared at Dax. He'd noticed the changes, but only the physical. Everything else was in the eyes.

"Dax, what have you been doing?"

His friend grinned, and something else that was familiar moved into place. Dax was a cocky little shit, whether he had reason to or not, but this time? Yeah, this time he had reason. Jak could tell. He wasn't waiting for someone to call bullshit, for one.

"I think I maybe became a spy. Y'know, while looking for you."

Jak blinked, and scrunched up his nose. "A spy?"

"Professional busy-body that helps figure out who needs to die, who needs questioning, and who needs leaving alone."

"You just oversimplified that, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Well. Now what?

"Jak? Now we figure out how to hide you in Haven."

Ah, well, as long as they had a plan.

"I can hear the sarcasm from here, fang boy."

* * *

_I'm so sorry for posting this so late at night. In my defense, I gave blood on Saturday and pulled the classic idiot move of not accepting free cookies and juice. What can I say, I was going to buy lunch right next door. I'm still recovering from blacking out. Twice. Yeah..._

_Next post on the 30th._


	14. Arc 3, Chapter 1

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter One**

Dax curled his tail around Jak's neck, and looked the room over. As far as things went, he'd slept better when out on the _streets_, but there were four walls, a window, and a flimsy lock for the flimsy door. If things went south- and let's face it, it was Haven City, things were pretty much guaranteed to go down the toilet- there was a way out. Door or window, Jak could manage either.

Sig had arranged for the room. They couldn't spend forever in his apartment, after all.

"I think it'll do," Dax said.

Jak grunted, and tossed the roll of blankets into a corner. "I've slept worse."

Erk. "I do not like hearing that."

The room was empty of anything pretending to be furniture. In this area of town, that was pretty common. There was dirt on the walls- Dax figured the brown color was dirt, not paint- and on the floor and ceiling.

Jak nodded, and moved over to the window. "What now?"

Dax jumped down onto the sill, and peered out. It was almost impossible to see the streets from this angle; the buildings all seemed to lean towards each other, like drunks trying to stay upright just a little bit longer. "Now I tell you about the situation."

"I know enough."

"No, actually, you don't." Dax didn't know nearly enough, but no need to mention that.

Jak growled, and moved away from the window. "Well?"

Ah, Jak. Taller, broader, hairier- and just as impatient as ever. "To start off with, the KG. They're going to be a problem. We're going to have to get you a hood or something, Jak, because eesh. And those nails. Can we cut 'em, do you think?"

Jak looked down at his hand. "They don't break."

Of course they didn't. "Well, the nine inch nail look is good on you, really, but it'll get attention we really don't need."

Jak huffed, and nodded. "I'll see what I can do. I've been... practicing."

What? When? Dax frowned, and smoothed down the fur on one arm. "Practicing what?"

"For a few minutes, I was _normal_." Jak looked up, and either he was staring with intensity or glaring with complete and utter loathing, it was impossible to tell. Dax decided he'd just go with the first option. "I want that again."

"Then you're going to get it." Dax rolled his eyes. "But until then, d'you think you can shrink the nails?"

"Ye-_es_..."

"Then get into the habit, bud. Okay, so, KG. I know you want to kill all of them, but that'd be a bad idea. There's... groups."

Jak raised an eyebrow, and settled down on the floor, leaning back against the wall. His nails, Dax noticed, were gradually shortening.

"Look, remember that scam artist a few years back, who managed to take off with everyone's money?" Jak had gone after the guy, Dax complaining all the way, and gotten the money back. Which wasn't the point. "Well, there's a lot more like him in a place like this. Not every person's a good one. So, the KG was supposed to protect people from those who like hurting others, and protect the people from the metal-heads."

Jak nodded, and studied his nails. They were about an inch long, and didn't seem to be getting any shorter. "How do I tell the difference?"

Considering Dax had really, _really_ over simplified the difference between general guards, investigators, and a whole host of other types of KG, he simply shrugged. "Trust me. You'll pick it up, but until then, I'll let you know. Okay?"

Not that he'd stop Jak from killing all too many of the guards. Most of them were nothing but vicious thugs, anyways.

And maybe Jak saw a little of that in Dax's expression, because he stopped looking sulky, and went back to looking kind of bored. Considering he looked kind of bored whenever he didn't have places to go, people to see, that was pretty normal and definitely a good sign.

"Okay, so, another thing. It's weird. But people don't care about each other's business as much. I mean, close neighbors, yeah, but even then it's not like it is at home."

Jak nodded. "So..."

"So, if the guard starts hollering, we just have to get out of sight, not look suspicious, and people probably won't give us away. Probably."

You just never knew, though. "Anyways. So, I was thinking we'd work with this group. They're called the Underground. They're rebelling against the Baron, which should make you happy, and if you hurt a bunch of thugs they wouldn't get too upset. Maybe about the mess, but hey. This is Haven City, baby."

Jak showed his fangs in a grin. "Yeah? Alright. A rebellion should have more behind them than what we've got."

Dax nodded. "Glad you see it my way, babe. But I'll tell you one thing we've got that the rebellion doesn't. And it packs one hell of a punch, too."

"I don't think Sig counts."

"For once, I'm not talking about Sig."

Jak stood up, and held out his arm. "Then what are you talking about?"

"Tess."

* * *

The Hip Hog was technically open during the day, same way it technically served food with the booze. There were maybe two people who'd come in during the day, and Sig was one of them. Pretty much everyone else waited until evening to do business with Krew, or get their drinks.

Tess, as a result, ran the place to her satisfaction during the day, not the clientele's. The music was quieter, and involved fewer instruments screeching their death songs, and singers who you could actually understand. The lights were still low- no one sane wanted to see what never got cleaned up- but it still seemed welcoming enough. About halfway through the day, when the sun was still up but work was over, the place got a few customers, which made it worth unlocking the doors during the morning, apparently.

Dax judged the hour as just about to turn from ordinary dock workers sucking down a cold one at the end of the day, to Krew's preferred, criminal clientele. The music was still this side of understandable, and no one had started the weekly bar fight.

Jak sauntered in through the open door, teeth clenched and body braced. Dax kept one hand on the top of Jak's ear, tail curled around his buddy's neck.

The scarf thing was going to have to change. Everyone in the room looked up, looked over at the newcomer- and hey, lookit that! Dax could now use the phrase "mass exodus" in polite company.

Jak's growl sounded pleased when the last straggler scrambled out. Dax resolved not to think about it.

"Who- oh, Daxxie-kins!"

"Tess, baby! Jak, hurry over there." Dax pointed at the bar, and waggled his eyebrows. "My honey-bun needs me."

"Honey-bun?" Jak raised his eyebrows, but sauntered over. Tess did a double take, but Dax wasn't sure if that was because of the horns imperfectly hidden, or because Jak's skin was clashing with his clothes. Knowing Tess, though... the second one.

"Snugglepuss, why don't you introduce your friend to me?" Tess cocked her hip, and folded her arms. The fact that both moves emphasized her waist and bust wasn't lost on Dax. Then again, he'd seen her use both moves right before taking down some asshole who'd tried running out on the bill, so.

"Snugglepuss?" Jak repeated, almost laughing.

Dax beamed. "Cuddle muffin, this is Jak, my friend I told you about."

Tess just lit up, like one of those flash bulbs. "Jak! Oh! C'mere!" She leaned over the counter and grabbed Jak by the neck.

Jak erupted. There wasn't any other word for it. One second he'd been smiling faintly, looking between Dax and Tess like he was waiting for the punch line. The next- yeah. Urk.

Tess had the sense to drop down behind the bar. Not that it did much good when Jak _ripped the bar top up_ and tossed a good sized chunk back over his shoulder. Dax winced.

"Hey, buddy, stop. Stop!" And a table. Oh, and the chairs, yeah, don't forget those. Have to make them go smash too. Eesh. "Jak! It's okay! It's just Tess, just a hug, what the fuck?"

Jak roared, and tried to turn to face Dax. Since Dax was- very sensibly, thank you- still on Jak's shoulder, this kind of meant his buddy was turning in place a minute there. Sometime during the dizzy circles, Dax noticed Tess slipping into the back hallway. Good. Great, even.

"Jak, calm down. I get it, I do, that was a surprise and I'm guessing you're not too fond of surprises." Should he be freaking out now? Dax thought he should've been, but, well, would that help? Really? "Jak, if you don't calm down right now, so help me, I'm going to tell Tess all about the whumpbees when you were eight."

Nada. Nothing. Just more roaring and smashing. Dax hunkered down to wait.

"You're not allowed to drink. I bet you'd be a happy drunk, but why take chances?"

Jak huffed, and finally stopped. Discounting the somehow still intact bottles behind the destroyed bar, there wasn't anything left to destroy. Except the walls. And for some reason, Jak had decided no, not going to take out the walls, though he might change his mind later, who knew.

"Are you done yet?"

Jak blinked, and his snarl faded somewhat. "Dax?"

"Yup, that's my name, don't wear it out."

There wasn't any sign to show Jak was less freaked out. Just, y'know, confused face. "What happened?"

Dax sighed, and massaged his forehead. "Tess tried to give you a hug. You flipped."

Jak muttered something vile under his breath. "Is she...?"

"She's fine." Dax pointed towards the back door, which was slowly opening. "Show's over, snookums. We're all good now."

Tess slipped out, and looked over the damage. There wasn't any way the Hip Hog would be open for a couple days. "Wow," she breathed.

Jak looked like a whipped croco-dog. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so-"

"Oh, don't be. I've been telling Krew we need to replace the tables and chairs for months and _months_. He'll have to listen to me now, and I can finally get something that won't break the first time someone's tossed on top of it."

Dax grinned, and elbowed Jak's chin. "Ain't she great?" he asked.

"Uh..."

Tess smiled, and picked her way across the wreckage. "_I'm_ sorry. I should've thought before I grabbed. Are you okay? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Jak's jaw couldn't have dropped any further. "You're worried if _I'm_ hurt?"

"Of course, sweetie. Let me see your hands." She grabbed at them before Jak could reply, and Dax tensed, slightly, ready for a repeat freak out.

Jak sucked in a breath, but didn't pull away or do anything else violent. He held still, eyes squinted almost shut, while Tess studied his fingers.

"There's a few nasty scrapes on your knuckles," she said. "Come along into the back, I can bandage you right up."

"Like I said," Dax muttered. Jak glanced over at him. "Ain't she the best?"

Jak shook his head, and meekly obeyed Tess. In short order, he was perched on a chair (that probably could've been used as a blunt object in a fight, and come out without damage), his scrapes bandaged, and with a cupcake on a plate in front of him.

"I tore up your bar, and you're feeding me?" Jak asked.

"Sweetie, Dax has told me _all_ about you." Tess rubbed Jak's hair, right between the horns. "Besides, you need feeding up. You're too skinny."

"Yeah, Jak." Dax jumped down onto the table. "How you gonna get a wife, you so skinny."

He dodged a lazy swipe of claws, and snuck a taste of the cupcake icing. Eh, just a little too sweet, he'd leave the rest to Jak.

"You just eat," Tess told Jak, then turned to Dax. "Snookums, I know you had limited options, but why would you clothe my Jakie-poo in _this_?"

_Her_ Jakie-poo? Dax smiled, just a touch sharp. "Babe, that's why we came here, I know when I can't do something. And no one's better with the clothes than you."

"Aw..." She scooped him up and cuddled him close. Dax's face was pressed up against Tess' neck, but he could see Jak start and dig his claws into the table top.

Deal with it, Jak. Tess was a tactile person. And her cuddles were some of the best.

"Well, you boys are very lucky." Tess let Dax back down onto the table, then tapped Dax's nose with one finger. "You just wait right here, I'll be back."

Dax admired the view as Tess walked away, then looked over at Jak. "Don't like cupcakes anymore?"

Jak blinked, and looked down at his snack. "Uh, no, that's not... If I eat this, I won't end up talking like her, will I?"

"I eat her cooking all the time, an' I talk just fine."

Jak raised his eyebrows, but picked up the cupcake all the same.

Tess returned only a few minutes later, arms piled high with clothes. "Now, Daxxie told me you like blue," she said. "Stand up, I want to see if this... No." She frowned at a perfectly inoffensive blue shirt, and tossed it onto a counter.

"Hey, I liked that one," Dax said.

"Too small across the shoulders, baby." Tess held up another shirt, and hummed. "This one's the right size, but, I don't know, too dark?"

Jak cleared his throat and looked down and to the side. "Whatever won't attract attention."

"Aw, honey..." Tess set the shirt aside on the table, and wrapped her arms around Jak's shoulders. "Just leave everything to me."

"Uh," Jak mumbled. "Thanks."

Dax grinned, and settled in for the long haul.

* * *

Tess had found a way of wrapping Jak's scarf around his forehead and neck in a way that hid the horns, without drawing the same attention a hood would have gotten. It also, somehow, detracted from his solid black eyes and bloodless skin, though Dax honestly couldn't have said how Tess managed that. Nonetheless, he paid attention to the scarf wrapping, so he'd be able to duplicate the result.

The rest of Jak's clothes- three shirts and two pairs of pants- were nearly identical. Blue shirts, and tan pants. Dax wanted to know why Tess had such clothes available- but at the same time, he didn't really.

It wasn't like Tess was working for Krew because she wanted to be a bar maid, or liked Krew. She'd let a few things slip over the months he'd known her, little things that on their own meant nothing but together meant... something.

Tess was watching Krew. Dax was reasonably certain it wasn't for the KG; even if it _was_ for the Guard, he knew she would _never_, _ever_ turn him and Jak over to Praxis' forces.

"There," Tess said, and fit the last of the provisions she was sending them off with into a pack. The clothes were at the very bottom, and a layer of food was on top. Dax was a bit bemused by the offerings, but hey. Having the pack meant they weren't limited to what fit in Jak's pockets, and they didn't have to leave anything important at the apartment.

"You don't have to," Jak started.

"But I want to." For a moment, Tess looked serious, not at all the airheaded bimbo she pretended to be. "You need help. I can give you help. Don't argue, okay, Jak? Just trust me."

Jak sighed, and looked over at Dax. "Alright," he murmured. "Dax trusts you. That's good enough for me."

Aw. "Tess, babe, I owe you one."

And just like that, Tess flipped an internal switch and returned to 'giggling blonde' mode. "We'll talk about what you owe me later, cuddle-bunny."

Dax grinned back, and hopped up onto Jak's shoulder. Tess showed them to the back door, which would let them get into the maze of back streets and side alleys without getting spotted, and headed back to her post. Probably to arrange a cleanup of the bar, if Dax guessed right.

"Dax?" Jak stepped over a pile of trash that had been there for months. Dax thought he might have slept in that pile, before meeting Sig...

"Yeah, bud?"

"You and Tess...?"

Oh, right. Yeah, you could get that impression, couldn't you? "Completely platonic, big guy. I'm one of the only animals she's not allergic to, and hey, I flirt back without getting all grabby hands with her." Dax shrugged, and crouched down. "Now, let's give your disguise a whirl. Place we're going, never closes down."

"Yeah?" Jak paused before hitting the main streets. "Where are we going?"

"Time to meet the Underground." And boy, wasn't that going to be fun?

* * *

_Okay, remember how Jak was acting far too calm back in the Temple? Yeah, that's not going to continue. Physical contact won't be the only thing to set him off, either..._

_On a personal note- still no job, but I've had a few interviews so fingers are crossed. I'll post again next month on the 13th. (Also, whoever-you-were that called me lame for fainting after giving blood- you're hilarious. Really. Try again, n00b, and this time try actually engaging your brain, m'kay? Also, anonymous 'flames' are just a sign of cowardice.)_


	15. Arc 3, Chapter 2

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Two**

Jak wasn't sure of anything in this city, except for Dax. Dax had always been a constant in his life, but now he was _the_ constant. He hadn't thought about it too hard before, but, well. Talking with Tess had just made it obvious.

Other people came and went. Some of them were good- Tess, Seem, Sig- and some of them weren't- like Erol. Or Praxis.

Jak clenched his fists and sped up a little. Best not to think about _those_ two. It was hard enough keeping control when he saw a KG. Last thing he needed was to lose it again. Sure, it'd bring KG, and he _really_ wanted to crush a few skulls, but... no. Dax said that was a bad idea.

And that was the thing, wasn't it? All these new people, new things, the new places. But Dax, Dax was- well, honestly, one of Jak's first memories was of opening his eyes to see a scrawny little red head hovering over him, with the most absurd overbite he'd ever seen...

And when they'd been talking with Tess, he'd thought maybe... Maybe even Dax would go away. Eventually. Because Tess thought Dax was adorable, didn't mind the fur or the talking or the part where Dax didn't reach over an adult's knees...

When Dax had said there wasn't really a thing going on, Jak had been horribly relieved. He shouldn't have been. His friend deserved to be happy.

But there was a part of Jak, a deep angry pit bubbling in the back of his mind, that was... happy, if you could call mindless possessiveness that... that Dax was stuck with them. That he couldn't leave. That was pretty obvious. Who else would put up with the constant chatter, the nervous twitching?

And it was horrible he was thinking such things, that he _could_ think such things, but still.

"Okay, we're heading into the slums now," Dax murmured. "Lotta places in town, we've got to have passes. I'll figure that out. Might pick a few pockets, y' never know. But slums, no one cares. Turn down this road here."

The slums, huh? Jak thought he almost remembered some place like this, yellow stone and dust, with the heavy stench of hopelessness.

There were a lot more men stomping around in red armor.

"Easy, Jak," Dax murmured, tiny hand pressing against his temple. "Just keep walking, buddy. You're doing fine."

Was he? Really? There was red everywhere he looked, and- no. Dax said no.

Jak clenched his teeth, and felt the odd-familiar press of fangs against the backs of his lips.

A guard walked right by him, glancing over once and moving on. And he almost- _almost_- lunged for the unguarded back. He knew where all the gaps in the armor were. It'd be easy.

Dax said no.

He shoved that little tidbit to the rage, felt that part of himself hesitate and settle down with a wrathful snarl. For now, he'd be able to keep control. Okay. Later... he'd deal with 'later' when it came.

Dax glanced at him, the corners of his mouth pulling strangely, but didn't say anything. Well, he _talked_ plenty, a familiar drone of nonsense words, a running commentary on everything from the decor (terrible) to the number of hiding places a two-foot-tall ottsel could hide in (Dax's knowledge of the subject was a little too detailed for comfort).

"Turn down here," Dax said, breaking his own monologue to give direction.

Jak... Almost didn't realize. He'd never seen the building from the outside, except once at a distance. That once had been branded in his memory, iron bars giving him a little light and air and enough of a view that he knew the building they were holding him in.

"Dax," he said. Thought he'd said. Maybe he'd just thought it; his voice sounded horrible, strangled, less like he'd swallowed a cupful of gravel and more like he'd chewed on a mountain.

"Oh, fuck," Dax said, practically sighing the words. "Are we going to have a bloodbath?"

A blood...? "No."

No. All he had to do was look away. Dax waved a hand in front of his face, which helped. Jak looked away, and stumbled down the street.

It really wasn't much of a street, even compared to what he'd already seen of the slums. There weren't any of the hovering vehicles that reminded him of Kiera's zoomer thing. Apparently the vehicles went by the same name, even- zoomers. It made something in his chest clench, but it couldn't be his heart. He'd lost his a while back.

There _were_ a few people, hollow eyed and quick to get out of his way. One old man and a small child, skulking in the shadows, looked out of place, but not so much that he was going to do anything about it.

There was a sudden, familiar stomp of boots. Jak turned, and looked right at a whole squad of guards. Ten in all, three up on their zoomer-bikes, seven on the ground. That was nine more than would've been needed to round up anyone down here.

Except him.

"Fuck," he muttered, and crooked his fingers. If he did it quick, he could bolt, they'd never catch him.

"Young man," the old man said. He stepped forward from the shadows, and wrapped one, surprisingly strong hand around Jak's wrist.

It was almost enough. Physical contact was- people weren't Dax. Only Dax was Dax.

Dax hissed, and dug his claws into the muscle joining Jak's neck and shoulder. "What?" the ottsel snapped, lashing his tail just like a pissed off muse-cat.

The old man blinked, and gave Dax a narrow look. "This boy and I cannot be caught by the Guard. You look strong." He nodded to Jak. "I can make it worth your while."

Jak sucked in a deep breath through his fangs, his eyes bugging out. Judging by the way the old guy backed up a step, he'd finally realized Jak wasn't _just_ strong.

Make it worth his while? Make killing worth his while?

He happened to glance down at the kid, though. A short, scrawny little thing, all blue eyes and quivering bottom lip, clinging to the old guy's robes.

Fuck.

Dax breathed out, and nodded towards the guards. "I don't think we've got a choice, Jak," he muttered.

Jak looked over, and curled his upper lip. The Guard was saying something about surrendering, and dying.

Yeah, no.

He turned back to the old guy. "I'm not doing this for you," he said, and jabbed one lethally tipped finger towards the guy's chest.

Then he turned back to the KG, stomping around and expecting everyone to listen to them, and grinned.

It was horrible of him, but this was going to be fun.

* * *

"Y'know," Dax mused, lounging at his ease on Jak's shoulder. "The KG is actually pretty dumb."

Jak snorted, and followed almost directly in the old guy's footsteps. Literally. The dust along these streets hadn't been disturbed for months, though considering how the buildings looked to be falling in on themselves... Dax couldn't blame anyone for getting the heck out of dodge.

"No, really," he said. His comment could do with some expanding, couldn't it? "I mean, I could understand if you were able to un-dark yourself. That'd make sense. But they don't notice you because of the way your scarf's wrapped around your head?"

His buddy smiled, _finally_, and tilted his head. "Don't talk about it anymore. You'll jinx it."

Dax laughed, and nodded.

The old guy- Kor, he said his name was- had offered to introduce them to some friends of his, who also had a beef against the Baron. Dax had decided they'd go along with it. If these 'friends' were the Underground, they were headed that way anyways. If they were another group, though, unrelated to Torn and his sixty-pack-a-day voice, things could get interesting.

Something he'd learnt from Sig. Every scrap of information could be helpful.

Considering Jak had ended up killing twenty of the KG- using some odd, funky jump-and-flip combo that sent dark eco searing across the street, at the end of it- they needed not just information, but some humor.

Because on some level, Jak was still just that kid from Sandover who'd accidentally-on-purpose ended up saving the world. And that kid? Was kind of horrified by the rest of him, who'd willingly, _gleefully,_ torn other, living people limb from limb.

Needless to say, Jak needed to either laugh, or cry. Crying was best done on someone's shoulder, and Dax was too small for that. Yeah, he could do the teddy bear impression with the best of 'em, but it wasn't the same.

Laughter was harder, but something Dax could do.

Kor glanced back over his shoulder once, and urged the small child on with a hand on the shoulder.

Dax shifted, but still couldn't get a good look at the kid. Kor was keeping- deliberately, Dax was sure- between Jak and the kid, which meant he was between Dax and the kid, and Dax's curiosity did not like that.

Well, maybe later. Not to be callous about it or anything, but how important could one little kid be, really?

Dax sighed, and sat up on his perch. "I don't know this area of town." He only realized he'd said it out loud when Jak looked over at him.

"Empty, though. I'm not going to complain."

No. No, neither was he. "So, old guy! What's the deal?"

Kor sighed, but didn't look back. "Baron Praxis has many enemies. Unfortunately, we have little power against the Krimzon Guard."

"Spelling challenged losers," Dax muttered.

Jak snorted. Score!

They wound through several more abandoned streets, before stepping out into an area that Dax did, in fact, recognize. It was only a street down from the Underground Headquarters. Imagine that.

Dax grinned, and crouched down again. His tail went back and forth, as regular as a clock pendulum, against Jak's back. His claws flexed against the material of Jak's shirt.

"Dax? That tickles."

Oh. Dax blinked, and then smiled over at his friend. "Ah, enemy intelligence. I shall use this to great effect!"

Jak may or may not have rolled his eyes, it was hard to tell. "You're horrible at fake accents."

"Yes, I kind of am." And as long as that information amused Jak, Dax would just stay horrible at fake accents, thank you.

Kor gestured at them from down the street, and they hurried to catch up.

By the time they arrived at the dead end, Kor and the kid had vanished. Jak scowled at the wall, and looked around. "Where'd he go?"

"In there." Dax pointed at the hidden doorway. "Walk towards the wall art, bud. I'll show you."

Jak raised his eyebrows, but did as he was told. Dax took a second to remember where the hidden door trigger was, before directing Jak through the process of tripping it. The door slid aside, yay, revealing the staircase that led down into Torn's Lair.

And yes, it totally deserved the mental capital letters. It was Torn's area, that made it a lair, and Torn was just that scary that it became a capital-L Lair.

Jak started down the stairs, the fingers of one hand brushing the wall. Since the stairs were plenty steep and there weren't any rails to hold onto, that made sense.

"Jak, do you think you could claw the walls and hold yourself up just from that?"

"Let's not find out, okay?"

Fair enough. Dax pricked his ears, and half closed his eyes. Torn was talking to someone, and they were both being unfairly quiet about it. What was the point of having super-hearing if people conversed in near whispers?

"-should have the Shadow look him over."

"The Shadow isn't here."

"But the boy-"

"You mentioned the rat."

Aw, Torn remembered him! Dax grinned and relaxed. Everything was going to be cool.

Jak stepped forward off the stairs, and into view. Torn and Kor looked over, Torn scowling, Kor looking thoughtful. Kor nodded, and gestured to Torn. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dax didn't feel like wasting such a perfect opportunity.

"Gravel growl! Long time no see! This is Jak." Dax gestured at his friend, who, bless him, looked amused. "Isn't he cute?"

Torn sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rat. Here I was hoping you'd gotten stepped on."

"Sig did tell you what was going on, didn't he?"

"Said he was taking a leave of absence. Didn't mention you."

"Aw, I'm hurt." Dax jumped onto the ground, and sauntered over until he could jump up onto Torn's desk. "You mean you didn't miss me?"

Torn snorted, and looked passed Dax to Jak. "So. This is your friend."

"Yup. Jak. Jak, this is Torn. Torn, this is Jak." Dax grinned, and looked between the Underground's leader and his best friend in the world, who- somehow- had found the darkest patch of shadows and was propping up a wall. That was just, kind of, adorable. "Jak, Torn maybe wants to see your face, yeah?"

Torn grumbled something Dax didn't care to translate.

Jak shoved away from the wall and walked forward, shadows sliding off him like some airy fabric. Dax grinned, and looked over the heavily muscled guy in some satisfaction. It'd been difficult to get even that much flesh on Jak, and the guy was still skinny, especially considering he must've grown at least two inches while in prison. But he looked so much better!

Torn made a strangled sound, and sat down. Dax glanced behind him, and raised his eyebrows.

"Problem?" he asked.

"Your friend is Praxis' Dark Warrior?" Torn asked, sounding more strangled than normal.

"Uh, yeah?" That made sense. "But he prefers to go by Jak."

"Right." Torn rubbed a hand over his face, and sighed. "Of course. Jak."

Jak stopped in front of the desk and folded his arms. Dax noticed his buddy's biceps only because a few weeks ago, he hadn't had them. Of course he was going to notice.

Jak ducked his head, and glowered from under his thick eyebrows. "Dax says the Underground's working against Praxis," he said, and wow, he hadn't sounded so rough since the first few days back at the Precursor Temple, where he was still sleeping more than anything.

Dax looked back in time to see Torn nod. "We are. Daxter's already joined up, with Sig."

"Aw, you remember."

Torn huffed. "Normally our members are reviewed by... someone else."

"Called the Shadow, right? What gives with that?"

"But Sig wasn't, and the rat wasn't. Seems fair to let you skip that. Besides, you're pretty obvious. Got a chip on your shoulder."

"Want the good Baron's head between my hands," Jak replied, and flexed his fingers. "Or Erol."

And aw, Jak was feeling homicidal. Dax considered jumping back up onto his shoulder, but nah. It'd be fine down on the desk.

"Can't promise that," Torn said. "But we'll give you a chance."

Jak grinned, and there were a few too many fangs in that expression. "Good."

"Fine." Torn sighed again. "You, rat," he said, and poked Dax.

Jak snarled, and leaned forward against the desk. "You don't touch Dax," he said, practically hissing the words. "I'll fucking kill you."

Dax felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and whatever common sense said, he couldn't move to get back on Jak's shoulder if his life depended on it.

And he was thinking his life did, in fact, depend on it.

* * *

_So, I'm not actually sure how I feel about this chapter- on the one hand, it was fun to write. On the other, it's shorter than I wanted but that was as good a place as I could find to stop. And like I said, there's more than one trigger for Jak's temper- and poking at Dax and being touched (and KG armor) is only the tip of the iceburg, I promise._

_For those of you following along with my little "Personal Life Updates" (and thanks to everyone who gave me encouragement during my job hunt) I've been hired! Not my field (law) but at this point, anything is better than nothing. It's a night shift at a call center, so who knows, I might have time to work in my notebook details of this story, but I make no promises. Next update SHOULD be the 27th this month, but because I'll be adjusting to my new schedule... I don't know, but I'll do my best. If you don't see an update on the 27th, just wait a week and it'll be up next Monday, and that's a promise!_


	16. Arc 3, Chapter 3

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Three**

"Uh, okay Jak, calm down, okay?" Dax patted at the air, and hoped no one noticed how he'd puffed up to twice his normal size. "Torn's good people. He can poke at me if he wants, so long as he gets that I totally bite."

Which, y'know, he didn't, actually. Although Torn looked like he bathed more than once every never, but still. Dax might've been two feet tall and furry, but he still thought like a human! And humans, if they weren't very, very desperate, didn't bite other humans.

Unless they were both consenting adults, which was a whole other barrel of eco and not something Dax ever wanted to think about in conjunction with Torn.

Ew. Just... No, ew.

Jak hissed, and yeah, there wasn't anything sane in that sound. Actually kind of the opposite of sanity, how about that.

Dax sighed, because really, this _was_ his life, and leapt.

Jak flinched back, and swiped- had to be instinct, because no fucking way would he do that in the right frame of mind- but completely missed because Dax was just that awesome. And already clambering up onto Jak's shoulder. Huzzah for being acrobatically fit as an ottsel, that was incredibly useful, people had no idea.

"HELLO!" he bellowed, right into Jak's ear. His dearest, bestest, most homicidal buddy flinched, managed to catch his foot the wrong way on the edge of Torn's desk, and went down onto his butt. Hard.

"Dax," he growled, but hey, words!

"Jak, I'm pretty sure we had this talk. You can't actually kill everyone you want to. I know, it's sad, but that's life in the city big guy, I don't make the rules I just follow them. Sometimes. Y'know, the important ones."

Torn, still seated behind his desk and surprisingly not vanished like Kor had done, sighed. Very loudly.

"I changed my mind," he said. He lowered his head until he could cradle his face with one hand. "I am going to make you do something before joining."

"Hey!" Dax jumped back onto the desk. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you're giving me a headache, so congratulations. I'm passing it onto you."

Fair enough. Dax grumbled under his breath anyways. He turned and jumped back up onto Jak's shoulder once his buddy stood up, and ignored the dumbfounded look Jak turned on him.

"So what're you making us do?" Dax asked.

"You know Dead Town?" _Now_ Torn stood up, only to move over to his wall-art-slash-map. He pointed to one section, and Dax poked Jak in the side of the head until he moved over to look over Torn's shoulder.

Huh, how about that. Torn was only an inch taller than Jak. Probably because of the boots.

"This is Dead Town," Torn said. "It used to be part of Haven, but the Baron let the metal-heads take it over. A lot of good men died that day."

While Dax totally sympathized in theory, he really didn't get why Torn was going on about it like this. On the other hand... Well, Dax sure wasn't going to turn down any scrap of information he could get. He was still working with and for Sig, after all.

"The Baron had some of his men go out and plant flags all over the ruins. His flags. A minor irritant, but it's the little pricks you feel the most." He turned to face Jak. "Gather up the flags, bring 'em back. We're running out of toilet paper."

Jak raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's what you want us to do?"

"It's either that, or there's a mission involving the sewers that needs done."

"Flags it is," Dax said, before Jak could pipe up and doom them to the tunnels of "Argh what is that _stench_?" for the next few hours.

Torn smirked, like he knew just what Dax was thinking. "Then you'd better get going. There's a time limit."

"Yeah? How long?"

"Be back by sunset."

Yeah, they could manage that. Dax poked and prodded Jak up to the door, and then started humming under his breath while he thought.

"Okay," he decided. "I'm going to teach you how to drive a zoomer."

"A wha- zoomers? That's what those things are? They don't look anything like the one Keira made."

Dax... wasn't going to touch that. "It's what they're called. Now we just need to find one parked somewhere... Don't look at me in that tone of voice! The KG steal zoomers all the time, most people these days walk. Or get a new one from the company, if they're _really_ important."

Dax had a theory about that, because it honestly seemed like zoomers were just... interchangeable and didn't actually belong to any one person, but there weren't too many different designs so maybe he was completely wrong.

Maybe there was a department of KG dealing will all the stolen zoomer complaints.

He shook his head and directed Jak down the street, one eye out for a parked zoomer.

It took several minutes before they found one, and Jak, by that point, was making that whole sub-sonic growl thing he did whenever he saw the KG. Or anyone wearing a red shirt. Yes, Jak had issues, Dax knew that, anyone want to make something of it?

Yeah, no, Dax wouldn't want to make something of it either.

"So," Jak said, and poked one finger at the zoomer. His claw made a tiny little 'tink' sound when it hit metal. The zoomer was purple. Bright purple. "You expect me to drive this?"

Dax hopped down onto the seat, and studied the control panel. "Hey, rip this part off. Don't worry, it'll go right back on when we're done with it."

Jak shrugged, and pulled off the underside of the control panel. Dax immediately burrowed into the wires. He came out with the ones he wanted, and looked up at the Dark Warrior.

"Don't worry. You're bad ass enough to survive driving a purple zoomer. Now hop on and watch the tail. This is how you hotwire one of these bad boys."

"Hotwire?" Jak asked, and swung one leg over the seat.

Dax rolled his eyes and twisted the wires together. The zoomer came to life with a roar and engaging of its repulsion system. Jak yelped, almost dropped the panel he was holding, and grabbed for the controls with six inch nails and no small amount of flailing.

"Oh, yeah, it does that," Dax said, and took the panel back.

Driving turned out to be something Jak was a natural at. The on-board, in-built map gave him a bit more trouble. Dax finally forbid him from even looking at the map. All navigation could easily be provided by the non-driving portion of the team.

On the one hand, driving was good, because Jak had to concentrate, and thus couldn't pay attention to all the KG wandering around. On the other hand, it was bad, because Dax had a feeling the wind was pushing the rather useless disguise into giving up its last gasp and that... wouldn't go over well.

It wasn't that Dax figured everything was going to go along just swimmingly from this point on. Jak had been tortured. Hell, he was talking now, and before the whole Haven City experience Dax would've said that would never happen, without the Precursors themselves coming down from on high and making it possible.

Demons coming up from below... In this place? He'd believe it.

You didn't get over that sort of thing just because you weren't in a cell anymore. Anyone who claimed they didn't come out of that sort of experience without being utterly crazy-cakes was _lying_. But if Dax started treating _Jak_ like he'd come unhinged, that would be worse than a few episodes here and there. Jak _came back_ from those episodes. If there wasn't anything for him to come back for...

Besides, Dax knew he wasn't exactly in spitting distance of sanity anymore, either. He'd started down that slippery slope oh, five minutes after realizing he had fur and had lost three and a half feet in height. Landing in Haven City had sped the process up, but spending two years without Jak, living only half a step better than an animal, had pretty much made the entire thing irreversible. If Sig hadn't stepped in, Dax would've forgotten how to walk on two legs, or just what pants were for, or something.

So no, he wasn't going to treat Jak like he'd lost it, because Dax had freaking _lost it_ years ago, back when he was scrounging a meal from a garbage can.

It'd just be easier to treat Jak normal and all, if Jak wasn't given so very many reasons to flip out.

They'd have to talk later. The over protective thing? It was nice, but it'd stop being nice and start being annoying real quick.

That, and he absolutely refused to be touched by only one person, ever, for the rest of his life. Jak just didn't know how to give good back scratches and that was it, thanks very much!

"Okay, we're going to have to stop here," Dax said. Jak obediently, if somewhat awkwardly, dropped the zoomer down to the side of the street. Dax pulled apart the wires he'd twisted together some internal monologue ago, and they headed off down the street.

Jak wrinkled his nose. Dax did more than that; he buried his face in Jak's hair, breathing deeply until he was sure he wasn't going to throw up. Ugh, stagnant water mixed with all manner of garbage. Not the most pleasant sent he'd ever come across.

"Welcome to the water slums," he said, and shook his head. "They're the first slums, if I've got my timeline right, but then they flooded. People just built houses on stilts and went right on living here, and they've turned into absolute slobs!"

Jak tested his weight on a creaking wooden platform, then looked down at the murky water. "Right," he said.

"It'll hold," Dax assured him. "It hasn't collapsed under anyone else yet, and some people, eesh."

Jak's lips twisted briefly into what might have been a smile, but then it was gone while he stalked his way along the rickety structures. Dax didn't know why he'd worried; the walkways that protested a feral muse-cat's weight barely made a sound under Jak's boots. Maybe the planks were too frightened to.

They made it to their destination without incident, though Jak garnered a few surprised looks. It was mostly the way he moved, purposeful and without hesitation, even when it was obvious- to Dax, if no one else- that he hadn't a clue what he was doing or where he was going. Only one or two looks were because of his appearance. Tess' disguise was still, barely, holding.

It might've only been the clothes, Dax decided. You didn't expect to see a half-mad, way-too-close-to-being-a-monster-for-comfort human stalking around with an ottsel on one shoulder and wearing spiffy duds. Just keep the horns hidden, and people might be stupid enough to mistake Jak for an albino. The eyes were easy enough to explain away, if anyone asked: work accident, dark eco, at least it's better than being blinded by moonlight.

Yeah. That could work.

Just so long as Jak didn't flip out and kill everyone, it could work.

"Now what?" Jak asked. He tilted his head back and squinted up at the top of the wall. Dax just knew he could see more of the eco wall than anyone else; Dax was able to get a bit of a hint, a kind of red haze that started where the wall ended, but that was it.

"See that door?" Dax pointed, because the door looked more like the mouth of a shallow, manmade cave. "We're going to want to get through it."

Jak looked around, but this section of the slums seemed to be thin on people. "Are there any locks?"

"Basic ones. Kind of more like a fancy doorknob. Don't worry, even I can open them."

"Dax, weren't you the one who kept breaking into the mayor's house?" Jak grinned, the expression heartbreakingly bright and carefree. "And stealing his cookies?"

"Best cookies in the village, and if you think that was special you should see me now," Dax said. He talked Jak through opening the door- it really was more like turning the doorknob than picking a lock- and they stepped through. The automatic voice warned them that they were leaving the city, which, no duh, _really_?

The second door opened, and they stepped through.

It was instantly like a different world, though it stank just as badly as the one they'd just left. The ground was dirt- not packed dirt, like in the slums, or cobbles, or old wooden planks, or the probably-metal in the industrial section- but actual, honest to goodness dirt.

Poisoned dirt.

Nothing grew, except for a few scraggly weeds that probably wouldn't die if they were dunked in dark eco and tossed into the ocean. The water, if it could be called that, was more of a gloppy sludge, and there might have been mats of algae growing on the surface. Or maybe that was just how the light was reflecting from it, who knew.

There were buildings, or the remains of them. The crumbling structures had been made out of the same stone as most of Haven City, yellowed blocks that reminded Dax a lot of the sandstone back in Spargus.

Fuck, but he missed Spargus. He missed the sand, which yeah, you couldn't grow anything in it, but it was clean. He missed the heat and the dry, and the tiny little fact that no one wanted to kill them there (yet).

There were also a couple mutated newts and frogs, but Jak took care of them easy as anything.

Dax pointed up at the tallest surviving building, once the big guy was finished. "Found the flag," he drawled.

Jak growled, and started climbing.

* * *

Torn looked up from his desk when they came in, and raised his eyebrows. "You two look..."

"Don't. Say it," Jak warned. He set the flag- turns out there'd only been one- on Torn's desk. A glob of rancid mud dripped from his elbow onto the floor.

At least the flag was clean. Mostly. The dirty part had been folded so it was hidden by the rest of it.

Torn jerked his thumb towards the back of the room. "There's showers through there, the rat knows where."

More or less, though Sig had never been invited to partake in the water. How had Torn known...? Eh, maybe he'd just pegged Dax as overly curious and figured an ottsel would be able to scamper around without being seen.

Jak took a deep breath, gagged, and nodded. "Thanks."

"Don't use up all the water," Torn said.

Dax waited until the door was closed behind them, then tilted an ear back and waited. And yup, there it was, the dulcet sounds of their fearless leader laughing himself sick.

* * *

_Hey, everyone. I made it! Evening training was... less than fun, since I went in for two and left at midnight (and had a forty minute drive either way, so technically I was leaving about one...) and was waking up only two hours before I had to go. Still, the chapter is up, and I'll be working nights hereon out, so who knows. Not as much down time as I'd have thought, considering it's night shift, but we'll see what I can manage._

_And for you anon reviewers- Some of you have questions that I want to answer, and I can't! But just so you know (sorry, can't remember names at the moment) I'm not actually answering anyone's reviews via story. The chapters are pre-written, and I typically have one chapter more finished than is posted (for example, I'm working on chapter four of this arc at the moment, and hope to be working on chapter five next week). So if you think you see something in-story that addresses a question or concern, well... serendipity! Woot!_

_Next post should go up on the 10th of September, though it'll have to compete with my job (yay...) and Sims 3 Supernatural (YAHOO!). See you then._


	17. Arc 3, Chapter 4

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Four**

The water lasted long enough to get the worst of the sludge off. Dax glowered at the dripping showerhead, but that was nothing to Jak's expression. If there'd been any justice in the world, the thing would've caught on fire with how angry Jak looked.

Then again, the sludge might've been gone, but the stench lingered. It was pretty nasty.

Pity they couldn't blame anyone for their slip into the so-called water down in the water slums.

Then again, if there'd been a person responsible, Jak would've killed them.

They walked back out to what Dax was starting to think of as the main room crossed with Torn's office. Torn's room? Something like that. Jak didn't bother wrapping the scarf special around his head, just left it looped around his neck. It actually looked better than Tess's 'special wrapping', but it left his horns just a little too visual to walk around town like that.

Not for the first time- and likely not the last, either- Dax wondered just why people were willing to ignore Jak's appearance so long as his horns were hidden. Even the KG didn't do more than look at him.

Unless not even the KG knew much about Jak... That was possible. Dax knew there were ranks, after all, and he doubted most people who joined up would be willing parties to Baron Praxis' little experiments. Most of them wanted to protect the city. Not torture people.

He sighed, and shook his head. "Ey, Torn!" Time to distract himself.

"What?" Torn asked. He was spinning a knife, the blade easily as long as Dax's tail, with one hand.

"You got a timer on the shower or som'thin'?"

Torn shook his head, and slammed the knife, point down, into his desk. "The Baron turned the water off to the slums. Congratulations, I think you used up the last of it."

Jak- well, he couldn't blanch, but he looked like someone had shoved a two-week dead fish down his pants. Horrified, with a pinch of _going to be really, really homicidal in five seconds_. "But how are people getting water to drink?"

"By paying for it outside the slums, while still paying taxes for the water they're not getting," Torn said. He curled his upper lip. "I'd send men to the pumping station to 'fix' things, but it's overrun by metal-heads. More than any of my men could handle, even in a group." He eyed Jak, and Dax supposed that beneath the tattoos and anger, there was a healthy dose of speculation.

And yeah, okay, hope, too. Dax could understand that. Jak was just one man... But he made people, even utter strangers, believe that he could save the day. And he could.

"Jak an' me could go there," Dax offered. He ignored Jak's surprised and vaguely irritated look. It was exactly the offer Jak would make, if he didn't have to struggle against two years worth of torture and distrust.

"You could," Torn allowed. "It'd put you on the Baron's radar."

"I'm already there," Jak said. He flexed one hand.

Torn frowned, then turned to his desk. He looked through several papers, and Jak and Dax both waited with varying degrees of patience.

"Fine," Torn said, putting the last paper down. "If you get the water back on, I don't think anyone will be turning it off again. It's one thing to come down here and roust people from their homes, it's another to try and drive us out like this. Several KG I wouldn't have pegged for it were caught trying to get out to the pumping station, and were exiled. I'd assume it was because they were going to turn on the water."

Jak blinked, and yeah, okay, fair enough, Dax hadn't expected to hear that either. "Most people here," he began, but couldn't finish. Didn't know how to.

Torn rubbed a hand over his face, palm scraping over the stubble on his jaw. "The Baron's personal guard is full of sociopaths and monsters," he said. "The rest? Do your best not to kill them, alright?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Jak asked. He seemed to be staring at Torn's desk, but he could just as easily have been looking at Torn, at the floor, or just staring at nothing.

"The personal guard wears yellow armor. I'm not going to say every KG in red's a saint, 'cause most of them have let the power go to their head, but there's limits. You know?"

Dax nodded. Hell yes, there were limits. That was why Sig helped hunt down the crazies and the KG _let_ him.

Torn opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a uni-blaster. There was already a red eco mod. Dax could feel himself salivating at the sight of it.

Most guns in Haven seemed to be based on the 'bigger is better' principle, with a side of 'bullets are for wimps'. The uni-blaster, on the other hand, was small, small enough Dax could shoot it semi-comfortably, and could be modified real easy to shoot regular bullets, eco-charged bullets, or eco-pulses.

"Take it," Torn said, and tossed it to Jak. Dax grinned wide enough his face hurt. "Sometimes you don't want the bad guys close up before you kill them."

Jak turned the blaster over in his hands, and then shrugged. "Can't hurt."

It took a few minutes, before they figured out the best way to sling the gun over one shoulder where Jak would hardly notice the weight, but once they had it, Jak was able to pull the gun out in a split second, and put it away almost as fast. Dax would also be able to pull it, if he needed to.

"Alright," Dax said, once they were finished. "Jak an' me'll head out to the pumping station."

"I assume you know where it is?" Torn asked.

"C'mon," Dax muttered. "Absolutely," he said, louder.

"I'm onto you, rat."

"Hey, I'm friends with Sig. It ain't that difficult to figure out..."

"I've got information for him."

Dax nodded. "I'll pass it on when he gets back."

"_When_ he gets back?" Torn repeated softly. He shook his head. "Get going."

Dax adjusted Jak's scarf, and then they set off.

Dax kept an eye on the streets, but people once again seemed to be looking at Jak, and then away. But it was working for them, so... Don't question it, or it'll stop.

"What did Torn mean, he was onto you?" Jak asked.

"Sig deals in information brokering. I was helping him out with it, while we kept trying to get into prison and rescue you."

Jak looked over at him, and then angled so he was walking towards a zoomer someone had parked on the street. It was easy to hotwire, and they took off without wasting any time.

"So where..." Jak began.

"We're going to see a friend first." Vin would know the pumping station, and Dax knew the value of information. Besides, maybe Vin knew something to help Jak with the whole 'tall, dark, and gruesome' thing.

It was worth asking.

They didn't draw notice until they reached the industrial sector, and even then it was only because most people walked. There were zoomers, sure, but considering there were so many overhead walkways and obstacles, it was easier for drivers to just go around unless they absolutely couldn't.

Jak left the zoomer parked in a little corner that was more or less out of sight of the street, then followed Dax's directions to Vin's little hidey hole. Dax had almost panicked, when he realized that no one had told him where Vin hung out when he wasn't getting attacked by metal-heads, then remembered Sig had escorted the man back after the whole rescue mission had gone down. And Dax might not have been all too great with directions, when they weren't written down, but he could remember which way to turn just by going off landmarks, so hey.

Vin's door was... not locked, surprisingly. Jak scowled when he walked in. Maybe all the blinking lights were giving him a headache.

"Yeaaaah!" A wrench was thrown in... almost the right direction. "Go away! I don't have any!"

"Vin?" Dax checked on Jak, but he looked bemused, not homicidal. "Vin, it's me, Daxter. I know this isn't Sig, but c'mon, talking rat. Talking _orange_ rat, no less." Kind of slightly memorable.

"O-oh." Vin stumbled out from around a large, blinking pillar. "I'm s-sorry, I th-thought you w-w-were someone else."

Jak blinked at Vin. Vin looked at Jak, squeaked, and hunched his shoulders. Dax wasted a moment in being very, very amused.

"Vin, this is Jak, he's my friend. Jak, this is Vin, he's a terrified genius."

"Alright," Jak said slowly. He sounded bemused, not just looked it. Thankfully. Bemused was a great deal better than homicidal rage was. "So he can tell us about the pumping station?"

"Should do," Dax said. He jumped down onto something that might have been a counter, or might have been part of another computer. Who could tell? "Vin, what _can_ you tell us about the pumping station?"

"It's overrun with metal-heads!" Vin shook harder for a moment, then moved over to... another computer, but this one had a keyboard, so Dax was actually able to recognize what it was. Yay!

Score one for the country boy who'd previously thought electric lights were amazing wonders of technology!

"Yeah, we know," Dax said. He motioned for Jak to stay where he was, which of course meant Jak grabbed him with one hand and followed Vin, until they were close enough a human could've heard the poor man gasping for breath.

Dax sighed, and scrambled back onto Jak's shoulder. It was more comfortable there, anyways.

"I've got a map," Vin said.

"Could we have a copy?"

Vin looked over his shoulder, and jumped, like he hadn't realized that they were right behind him. "S-sure," he said, once he'd stopped trembling too hard to speak. "Absolutely. Why do you want it, anyways?"

"Because we're going to kill the metal-heads," Dax said. Simpler than explaining the whole plot.

"...You're going to die!" Vin reached forward and grabbed Jak's collar. "Don't go! You'll die!"

Jak snarled, teeth bared and claws fully extended. Vin screamed, let go, stumbled back, and fell down.

Dax sighed, grabbed Jak's ear, and twisted.

Well, what do you know? Same reaction as when they were kids.

Jak stopped writhing on the floor after a second, and glowered at Dax. "You..."

"Me," Dax agreed. "You were about to make Vin into fish fillets. That would've been very rude. We're going to have to work on that touching thing, aren't we?"

Jak just stared at him, rubbing one hand against his abused ear.

"Okay, Vin? Sorry about that, but Jak's got a thing about touching, so. D'you think we could have that map, still? He's very sorry to have scared you."

Vin stared at the both of them, then shrugged. "Everything scares me. Sure. I'll just print it out for you."

Dax grinned, and hopped back on Jak's shoulder. Jak growled, but didn't toss him off.

"We need to come up with a better method," Dax murmured.

Jak snarled, nodded, and then moved to brood next to a blinking pillar.

Vin returned with a paper copy of his map after a minute, and managed to hand it over without too much flinching. Dax sighed, but it was Vin. Apparently, this was normal for him.

"Hey, Vin. Y'know what we were talking about last time?"

Vin nodded, and wrung his hands together. "It's taking longer than I expected, I have to hide my research from the Baron and his men, and they keep watching me, it's like they know what I'm doing... They must have bugged my place!"

"I don't hear anything, so no, they didn't," Dax lied. He couldn't actually hear electronic bugs, and considering the computers whirring and buzzing and clicking he wouldn't have been able to tell the electronic bugs from everything else even if he _could_, but even if they _had_ bugged the place, Vin was still here, which meant they _hadn't_. If they'd known Vin was helping out the Underground, the man would've been in prison. Or dead.

"O-oh. Well. That's something, at least." Vin bit his lip, then spread his hands. "I'm looking into it. Why?"

"D'you think it'd be something that could be tweaked to help Jak? He's not supposed to look like this, he's supposed to be blond."

Vin raised his eyebrows, and scrunched up his face. "Maybe? Dark eco too?"

"Yes."

"I'll look into it," Vin promised, sounding for a moment like he wasn't terrified for his life. The moment passed, and he looked over his shoulder. "If they don't take me away for my subversive actions!"

Dax sighed, and poked Jak in the side of the head. "We'll be going now, Vin. Thanks for the help."

"Beware the metal-heads!"

"Absolutely."

Jak remained quiet until they were several blocks away. "So, he was kind of a nut."

"You're one to talk."

* * *

The pumping station was much nicer than Old Town. For one thing, there was green stuff. For another, the water wasn't lethal. Granted, the odd little shooting bot... thing... _in_ the water was, but it only shot when Jak waded out past knee depth.

There weren't any metal-heads right next to the wall, so Jak crouched down and scrubbed at his arms. Dax figured they still felt dirty; his fur still felt like things were crawling through it. Hopefully he hadn't gotten fleas again.

Jak straightened up, and flicked water off the tips of his claws. They were growing again, six inches and still longer, and the sight of the slowly extending black stilettos was kind of creepy.

"Which way?" Jak asked, his voice getting rougher.

"That way," Dax said, and pointed away from the wall. He had the map, because what else was he going to do? Fight? Yeah, no.

He could figure out which way they should go and keep an eye out on Jak's back. That would have to be enough.

Jak stalked his way along the pumping station, growling under his breath. After a moment, Dax realized why; he and Sig had managed to rescue Jak from the KG here, where he'd been fighting metal-heads and the Guard. Jak must've been here loads of times before, and it was doubtful he'd have any good memories of the experience.

"It's okay, buddy," Dax murmured, and pressed up against Jak's neck. "Totally different now."

Jak growled louder, but the tension in his shoulders eased up. A little.

Dax was going to count it as a win anyways.

They spotted the first metal-head prowling near a building Dax figured was the foreman's little shack or something. The metal-head's shoulders were about even with Jak's head, and its claws were as long as Jak's.

Not that it mattered. Jak saw the beast, and then lunged, tearing into it. The metal-head didn't even have time to realize it was being attacked before its head was wrenched sideways, neck snapping. It collapsed and immediately began decomposing into gobs of stinking, dark eco. Only the skull gem didn't disolve.

"Hey, pick that up. We can sell it."

Jak grunted, but passed the skull gem up to Dax. Dax made sure it was secure in Jak's little pack, and eyed the dark eco warily.

Sure, the dark eco pools were dangerous, but they didn't _smell_ like that. If it were possible for dark eco to get corrupted, then the stuff the metal-heads gave off when they died was definitely tainted.

The gobs shifted back and forth, like they were being blown by the wind, and then they shot forward and hit Jak's legs. Dax yelled, and relaxed only slightly when Jak didn't seem hurt by the experience.

"Yeah," Jak said. His voice was even rougher, sounding more like it had when he'd first started talking in Seem's temple. "That happens."

It _happened_ three more times, and then Jak stopped talking. He responded, still, but it was like he was caught in a 'don't touch me' rage.

Only much, much angrier.

Dax could only hunch on Jak's shoulder and wait. And, okay, honesty here, shake like a leaf, but he was still on Jak's shoulder so it counted!

There were a lot of metal-heads. Most of them weren't as big as the first one, a few were even bigger, but Jak didn't care. They died, whatever their size, and the gobs of eco they produced kept shooting towards Jak.

Dax pressed up against Jak's neck, and kept talking in a quiet murmur that wouldn't distract the guy, but would hopefully remind him he had a passenger.

Then there were no more metal-heads. It wasn't going to be a permanent thing, sadly, but hey, Dax would take what he could get.

"Okay, Jak. We need to find the shut off valve. The shut off valve. What are you, a berserker? If you are, it explains a lot, actually, but it's kind of annoying when I need you to use your brain. If I were the person who'd designed this place, where would I put a shut off valve?"

Jak growled, and started walking around. He had enough presence of mind, or maybe he was just coming back to himself, but he remembered to pick up the skull gems and give them to Dax.

Dax let him wander, and just kept his eyes peeled for something that looked like a shut off valve. The map was marked, they were definitely in the right area, but that didn't help when he didn't _know_ what he was _looking_ for.

Well, okay, he knew what he was looking for, but not what it looked like.

Finally, he decided it had to be the funny looking wheel thing attached to a large pipe, and pointed Jak over to it. It took a little persuading, but Jak finally turned the wheel.

Several pipes clattered and banged against each other, and Jak skittered away with a snarl. But then everything calmed down.

"That's done it," Dax said, and relaxed. "Okay. Back to headquarters we go. And hopefully you'll be all the way calm when we get there.

Jak looked at him, and Dax wouldn't have sworn to it but he was sure his buddy looked doubtful.

Dax patted Jak on the forehead. "Just think positive thoughts. Everything will be fine. And if everything isn't, we'll figure something out. Let's go."

* * *

_It's still Monday._

_So, the night shift is not working out the way I'd hoped and planned, but job means money means I get to keep my car and can pay my bills. So that's something. I might even look into Toronto- apparently there's quiet areas and more job opportunities for people without experiance. And the people here are jerks who don't tell you that no, you're not actually coming in for an interview after all, they filled the position, until the day OF the interview really early in the morning. Argh._


	18. Arc 3, Chapter 5

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Five**

Jak had calmed down to the point that he'd stopped growling, and his claws were retracted, but he was still sticking to one or two word answers. Dax was as calm as he was going to get, at this point, but he kept an eye out for known triggers. That was, what, just about everything? He almost wished Jak instead reacted like most everyone else who'd been tortured, with less 'kill everything' and more 'hide from everything', but... No.

No, it was better, for everyone, that Jak hadn't been broken in that way. Even if it was nerve wracking.

Jak stalked his way through the streets, the people on the streets giving him a wide berth. Strangely, though, the looks directed his way were more sympathetic and pitying than frightened, and Dax honestly couldn't understand it. There was something that he was missing, and he really didn't like that feeling.

Then, oh joy, he spotted one of the KG. And the Guard spotted Jak. And did the stupid thing, and walked right over to him.

Jak's growls had almost hit the audible point, but the Guard didn't speak or reach for a weapon.

Dax's fur stood on end. Something was going to happen, someone was going to break, and he just knew Jak would kill the Guard. And maybe a lot of other people, too.

"How are you still _alive_?" the Guard asked, his tinny, buzzing voice sounding incredulous.

That was... not expected. Jak paused, hands half lifted and claws halfway out.

"Is there someone you need me to call?" the Guard continued, apparently oblivious that he was speaking with his doom. "Or directions to a healer? There's one that's having a lot of success with- with this. He could help you."

Somehow, Dax thought the Guard had mistaken Jak's appearance for... something else.

Okay, he was _definitely_ missing something.

"I'm fine," Jak said, his words barely understandable what with all the growling and teeth-gritted rage. "I don't need help."

"You're sure?" the Guard asked. Dax wasn't sure, the armor messed it up, but he thought the man's body language was... helpful. "I could-"

"I'm _fine_!" Jak snarled, fangs all too visible.

The Guard, weirdly enough, didn't back away all that much. "Well... If you're sure. Let me give you the Healer's information, though. Okay?"

Then the guy pulled a card out of his gauntlet, because why not? It wasn't like this conversation had made any sense that Dax could figure out, after all.

Jak took the card without looking at it. His expression was completely, totally unreadable, but Dax was almost 98 percent sure there was a dose of 'go fuck yourself' in there somewhere.

The Guard nodded to them, and walked away. He glanced back a couple times, but that was it.

Really? _Really_?

"What d'ya say we go ask Torn what that was all about, eh?" Dax finally asked.

Jak crumpled the card in one hand, and a spark of dark eco burnt it to ashes. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Torn looked up when they entered his basement office, and frowned. "What?"

Dax considered jumping down onto the desk, and decided against it. "Are there other people like Jak in Haven?"

Wow, and here he'd thought it was impossible for Torn to look surprised. "Like- you're kidding, right?"

"A KG asked if Jak needed to see a healer, that the healer was having some success with 'this'." Dax flattened his ears against his head. "So. What do you know?"

The other man snorted, and sat down. "Nothing. I'll ask, but I've never heard of anyone surviving exposure to dark eco."

Oh, now- "Do they die immediately?" Dax asked.

Torn raised his eyebrows, and yeah, that was the light of realization in his eyes. "Not always. Sometimes victims... Work accidents down at the mine, or whatever. They maybe last a week or so, if it was a mild exposure. And yeah, they _do_ go pale..."

Dax pieced it together. People exposed to dark eco looked, more or less, like Jak. Probably not as extreme, because hello, channeler, but enough that people were willing to ignore the weird in favor of what they knew, and what they knew were probably people who'd been exposed to dark eco and were living on borrowed time.

It wouldn't last, he knew, but nice to know why they had a grace period.

"Huh," Dax said, and shook his head. "Okay, cool. So, the day's still young, Torn." And Jak was practically vibrating with the need to go out and _do_ something.

The Underground leader smirked. "Well, if you _really_ want to make the Baron hurt, I can get you to the ammo dump."

Jak grinned, all feral joy and way too visible fangs.

* * *

"This place is creepy city," Dax whispered. He hunched over on Jak's shoulder.

Jak brought one hand up to touch the tip of a finger to Dax's hand, and he nodded. "Reminds me of the spider caves," he murmured. The ache in his bones had faded with the movement and distraction. And blowing up old Praxis' things? He was going to _enjoy_ himself, so much.

The building where the ammo was stored seemed like some unholy cross between a warehouse stuffed full of crates and barrels stacked halfway to the ceiling, and a lab he vaguely remembered seeing at one point during his incarceration, full of computers and shadows and a table where he'd been strapped down and-

He breathed in sharply, and relaxed at Dax's weight pressed against his chin. That was something, at least. Dax wasn't going to let him go through anything alone, ever again.

He didn't deserve his friend. Especially not since he kept scaring him.

"If you go over to that computer, I should be able to suss out where the ammo is."

Jak scratched the bridge of his nose, carefully. His claws were at full length again- he really had to figure out how to control that better- and he really didn't want to gouge out an eye or something.

"Why not just blow the whole thing up? Or set it on fire?"

Dax pointed towards the ceiling. "Ten credits there's a fire suppression system of some kind. I'm not saying it's impossible, just difficult, and at the very least the KG will have time to come and try stopping us." He made a gagging noise.

Yeah, Jak... could understand that. He wished he still hated fighting.

Back in Sandover, he'd have given his right arm- okay, maybe a leg, instead of an arm- to never have to fight again. He'd been good at it, sure, because he wanted it over with as fast as possible. But he'd had to protect Dax, and then later he'd had to stop Gol and Maia, and there'd just been so much _fighting_...

Now, there weren't many things that made him happy, but breaking his enemy's bones seemed to do the trick just fine.

It made him sick to his stomach when he thought about it.

He started to walk towards the computers, when he saw something tucked away in an alcove. It was a large alcove. A very dark one.

"Let me look at something," he murmured to Dax.

His ability to see in the dark had grown by leaps and bounds since the first infusion of dark eco, but for some reason it left him nearsighted in low light. It meant he had to get close to the whatever it was to start making it out.

It was... big. The sheer size threw him for a minute; he knew what it looked like, but there was no way it could move, could it?

Then lights turned on all over the massive tank, and the barrel of the cannon turned and pointed right at him.

"Well, shit," Dax said.

Jak moved. He'd jumped and clawed his way onto the top of the tank- _not_ safe, small guns, what the _fuck_- and managed to get up onto a pile of crates only a little higher than the top of the tank.

Then he bolted for the other side of the pile.

It was hellish. Never. Never ever had he ever run from something so terrifying.

He turned once he had several feet, and it _was_ moving, it was rolling over the crates like they weren't even _there_ and- was that food? It was. The baron had stockpiled fruits that Jak _knew_ were in short supply down in the market.

Jak threw a ball of dark eco at the tank, and it did absolutely nothing.

"Shit," Dax said again.

There was a platform a little over halfway up the wall, and a walkway, and it was probably something to do with the crates or moving supplies but at the moment it was just a place where he didn't have to worry about being rolled over.

No, instead he had to worry about being _shot at_ instead.

One blast from the cannon took out one of the walkway's supports, and Jak lunged for the next section just as the previous one fell down.

If that thing hit Dax...

He was moving too fast for his blood to run cold, but the rage threatened to flood his mind. He fought it back. He needed to think. Or that thing would kill him, kill Dax. That- no. _No_.

The walkway went over a cinderblock wall on the other side of the warehouse, and Jak gasped. There. The tank wouldn't follow them, it was clearly security for the warehouse, and wherever they ended up, well, it'd be better than sticking around and getting shot at!

There was still a warehouse to cross.

If his strength and agility hadn't been enhanced by dark eco, he'd never have managed it. As it was, he remained only a step ahead of the tank, sometimes not even that. Dax was a small, terrified weight on his shoulder, tail curled around Jak's neck and claws digging through his shirt and into his skin.

He could feel the heat of the eco charges on his back. His skin prickled in answer, dark eco crackling around his claws.

It wouldn't do anything. He _knew_ that. He still wanted to melt the Precursors-damned machine!

He jumped onto a high stack of barrels, and wind milled his arms when they rocked beneath his weight, and began to collapse. He jumped again, and caught the edge of the walkway.

The barrels made _interesting_ sounds when the tank rolled over them.

"Fish oil," Dax said, all but whimpering. "Oh, Precursors."

Right. Sensitive nose.

Jak bolted for the end of the walkway, but he took a second to look back. He had to admit, there was some hope that the fish oil would give the tank some traction problems, but no. No problems at all.

Then he was at the end of the walkway, and ducking under another shot, and past the wall and he was running down a tunnel, the ceiling and walls crowding in on him, too close, but he _couldn't stop_.

Then he burst from the tunnel into a room, filled with computers but open, much more open than the tunnel had been. He slowed to a stop, and stood panting.

"Huh," Dax said, his voice quavering only a little. "I'd guess this is the administrative part of the warehouse, except it looks a lot like the official storehouse for the palace. Part of it. The office part of it."

Jak raised his eyebrows. "The tunnel must've taken us entirely to another warehouse," he said, his voice rasping unpleasantly in his throat. At least the tank wouldn't be following them.

He crept out of the office, and found himself looking out over an almost empty room. There were crates of- yes, those were the ammo crates- piled against the walls, and an open access to the sewer. There were three guards, three metal-heads, and several barrels of eco.

"What the fuck?" Dax murmured.

Jak crept as close as he dared to the edge of the walkway, and crouched down. He strained his ears, just able to make out something about a deal, and payment, and...

"The Baron's working with the metal-heads?" Dax asked, carefully quiet.

The-

_Kill_, he thought. _Baron. Guards. Metal-heads. All. Kill._

"Easy, Jak," Dax whispered. "Not yet. Okay? We'll blow up the ammo. Then we'll tell Torn. He'll be able to do more with this than we can. Okay? Not yet. Hold it together, big guy, I've got you. You're okay, you're good, just not yet."

He growled, and sunk his claws into the steel walkway beneath him, but no, Dax said no, no lunging for them. He'd probably break an ankle if he jumped down anyways.

The metal-heads scuttled back into the sewer, barrels of eco in their mouths. They made several trips, and then the guards lowered a kind of cap over the opening, that looked, at this distance, exactly like the rest of the floor.

Then they left.

Jak waited another minute, and then found the stairs down to the ground. He walked over to where the entrance had been, but it took some searching while crouched over on hands and knees to find the seam.

He felt the floor vibrate under his hand, and he called dark eco to crackle around his claws. The metal-heads were coming back, huh? Well, he'd be ready for them.

The wall to the side collapsed in a shower of masonry and dust, and the tank crunched through.

Jak's jaw dropped.

The tank swiveled it's cannon, and shot at him again.

The tank missed. Jak hit the ground with his shoulder and rolled, and ducked behind a pillar near the wall for cover. The tank shot the pillar, which groaned and began to shift.

He'd held the rage as long as he could. He fought it, but-

It rose up, a black-red tide, and he drowned.

There was blood in his mouth.

* * *

It was human. There wasn't any oil, so it had to be human.

He really, really didn't want to open his eyes... But he had to know.

The first thing he saw was Dax, perched on one knee and puffed out to twice his normal size, muttering under his breath.

Dax was fine. Pretty upset, but fine.

"Dax?" he croaked, and tried to move. Okay, ow. That hurt.

"Jak!" Dax whirled in place, voice pitching up uncomfortably. "You're awake! And talking! Oh thank Precursors- you are one scary bugfuck, you know that? Because you are. And I think your disguise won't work anymore because I'm only going to say this once. High speed chases aren't low key! At all! Your face is gonna be plastered over the walls on Wanted posters, buddy boy!"

"Dax," he said. If he let him, Dax would continue his rant for several hours. He'd done it before, though admittedly this was the first one after they'd... Well. After his rescue. "What happened?"

"You went fucking berserk," Dax replied.

Jak blinked. "That answers absolutely nothing."

"I was only starting," his friend muttered. Jak did his best not to smile- there was _blood_ in his _mouth_, _who_ did he _bite_- but Dax was always funny when he was cranky.

"Anyways," Dax said, drawing himself up with painful dignity. "Tank crashed through the wall and started shooting. You went berserk. The ammo dump went kablooie, so there's that, but the guard came running and I think you might've calmed down a lot sooner if they hadn't. Then they started shooting, so first you killed a bunch of guys, then you whacked a bunch of guys into walls, and then you took to the roofs like some sort of lurker."

He paused, and gave Jak a decidedly odd look. "Berserker you can drive zoomers, did you know that?"

"No," Jak managed, after a moment. "I didn't."

"Oh, well, you can. So there's that, too. Anyways, high speed chase, we almost crashed and exploded way more than I really ever want to, ever, again, and we finally lost 'em in the Industrial Sector but still, hey, crazy-you, so we're visiting Vin."

Jak blinked. And blinked again. "Vin?"

"Vin," Dax confirmed.

Jak sat up, and oh, he must've been shot at some point, because he could feel the aches blue eco caused, and his back was cramping like mad.

Vin was... not in the room, not that he could see.

"He kind of fainted," Dax said. "I got crazy-you to take him to the back room, there's a cot and a few supplies. I think Vin's living here."

"Uh," Jak said, and shook his head. "Who'd I bite?"

"Yourself. Right through the lip. Healed up fast, too. Want to see what I can get out of these computers?"

Jak closed his eyes and slumped back against a wall. "Have fun," he mumbled. Well. At least he hadn't torn out anyone's throat with his teeth again.

* * *

_I am so, so sorry for the late post, but this is what happens when you 1) work night shift which means 1a) the only time I have for writing is AT WORK which is a big NO from management (wonder why) and 1b) I'm asleep when I'm at home; and b) lose your buffer chapters because argh. ARGH. Posting has caught up to writing which means these chapters are now being written in little dribbles and pieces, so if there's any... I don't know, weird stuff... that's why._

_Someone (sorry, can't remember who, or when) asked why everyone in Haven was letting a freaking scarf, of all things, hide Jak's whole... Darky-Sparky thing. I will go into that, and in fact you got a piece of it now._

_Work Health and Safety. If I had to sit through that demonstration for the fifth time running, at least I've gotten something from it, right? Safety guards are your _friend_..._


	19. Arc 3, Chapter 6

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Six**

So Dax wasn't quite as freaked out as he probably should have been. Crazy-Jak had been, yes, bugfuck nuts. But also extremely protective- albeit no more than Jak was normally, and he thought he had something there, but the thought refused to form and he wasn't going to force it- and gentle when no one was trying to kill him.

The only problem was the eco. Specifically, what it did to Dax's fur. It was worse than static electricity, seriously.

Vin's computer algorithms and security was exactly the sort of paranoid, twisty-mind nonsense Dax had expected, but he was only trying to hack in because what, exactly, was there to do here? He wasn't any kind of computer wizard like some people he'd met (and subsequently avoided- they kind of scared him, actually) before. Granted, he could usually figure out passwords if they were simple, and normally people wrote their passwords down if they were more than four letters long, so he managed.

Thirty-four characters for a word once used to describe an underwater volcano... supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious. That... wasn't it. The right length, yes, the right word, no.

Dax scratched behind one ear, and sighed. "This is worse than the crosswords."

"Then why are you doing it?" Jak asked. He'd shuffled around a bit, but Dax had figured he was just getting comfortable. When he looked back over his shoulder, he realized that yes, Jak had been getting comfortable, but he was also staring _very intently_ at his hands. His blood covered hands.

Uh oh. If Jak ended up getting all depressed and miserable because he'd defended himself...

_I've spent too much time with Sig. Or have let this place make me hard. Or both. Argh._

Still... Those guards _had_ shot at Jak. He'd only defended himself.

But they'd been living people, probably with families of their own. Parents, certainly. Brothers and sisters, wives (or husbands, some of the KG were female) and children...

Dax shook his head, and hopped down off the computer terminal. He walked over to Jak, waddling awkwardly on his hind legs. Stupid spine. Just because he could stand up straight didn't mean it felt natural anymore.

"Hey," he murmured, and rested one hand on Jak's leg. He hoped his fur covered the faint twitch of his eyebrow; the man's pants were soaked, and by the smell, not with water. A bit redder than water, actually.

By Jak's expression, the fur hadn't hid enough. "How many?" Jak asked.

Dax didn't even pretend not to understand. "Not as much as you probably think," he said, hopping up onto a slightly drier knee. He crouched down, practically sitting, and twitched his tail back and forth. "There was that first wave of guards, and that's what's most of the, erm, mess. The second wave I think you mostly just knocked unconscious via a quick trip into the wall. You were more concerned with getting out than stabbing people."

Jak looked down at his hands again. His claws were still full length.

"And after?"

"After, you seemed more concerned with not getting caught," Dax told him. Which was true enough. And- now that he was remembering the incident calmly- Jak had, even in his crazy, berserker rage, seemed to go out of his way to avoid hurting people. "You didn't hurt any civilians. And... You know, I think the only reason you got hit at all? The Guard _missed_."

"Huh?" Jak looked up, his black eyes confused and, yes, hopeful. Like he maybe knew what Dax was referring to, but didn't believe it could've happened the way he remembered.

"There was a girl," Dax said. "She didn't get out of the way in time, and the eco charge would've hit her." He'd thought... Well, at the time, he hadn't thought, but that was very Jak, wasn't it? Tossing himself between a threat and an innocent, because he was a channeler and even know could probably lessen the damage the eco charge would do. The girl couldn't. She would've died.

_Oh. Oh! That's- Precursors, if you gave me the insight I needed just now, thank you. And if you're the reason why it took so long for me to figure it out, I hope you all go and shove your hands in a blender._

"Jak... you haven't changed at all, have you?" Dax asked. He grinned, and almost laughed, because yes, _this was_ his friend. "Still the same old lunkhead from Sandover."

"I don't- where are you getting that?" Jak brandished his claws. "I've changed."

"So the puberty fairy whacked you a good one," Dax said, and chuckled when Jak blushed. Maybe there wasn't any change in color, but yup, that was the cringe that _always_ went with blushing. "But personality wise? Jak, you're still..." He shook his head. "You're still a freaking hero. We should get you your shiny armor, prince charming."

Jak half choked, half laughed. "I'm not a prince, Dax," he said.

"Hell you aren't."

It probably would've gotten disgustingly sappy after that, except Vin stumbled out of the back room, caught sight of Jak, and started freaking out.

"Vin!" Dax jumped onto a handy, flashing ledge that looked like it was maybe actually part of something technical, and used it to cross the room to the paranoid technician. "Cut it out! Jak's sane, you're safe, we're all friends here, I'm going to bite you if you don't calm down!"

"I'll get rabies!"

"I'm not sick!"

Dax flattened his ears back against his neck, and fumed. The Precursors had it out for him, that was it.

"Vin," Jak said. Dax heard him shift, and then the sound of footsteps, but didn't look away from Vin because if he did the man would faint again. "I'm sorry for scaring you. Do you have a shower I could borrow?"

Vin's eyes did a very freaky bulgy thing, but he pointed off to the side. Jak nodded, and headed in the direction Vin had indicated.

"Are you going to calm down now?" Dax asked, feeling his fur settle along his shoulders.

_Jak's going to just go into that shower completely clothed, at least if he's got any sense. Wet clothes is better than bloody._

"What did you do to my computer?" Vin asked, managing to sound ominous while stuttering.

Jak returned halfway through Dax's explanation of how boredom could, in fact, be terminal. It'd been a calculated rant. On the one hand, Vin was upset at how much he had to reset- also known as 'someone tried to get into my database, I need to change _every single password_ I ever had _three times_, even the combination lock for my sock drawer'- while on the other, no one ever wanted to listen to Dax's rants. Except Jak.

Then again, Dax never purposefully set out to bore and-or annoy Jak into ignoring him, so.

"Dax," Jak said, sounding amused and not at all like he'd had to go wash off a lot of blood.

"Jak," Dax said, changing subject almost mid-word. "City's in lock down. We can't get out."

"Can't?" Jak scowled, eyebrows falling low over his eyes.

"Well," Vin said, twitching a little. "You can. But they'd catch you. And kill you. It'd be very messy."

Messy, yes, but not because Jak would be dead.

Dax rolled his eyes, and made his way over to Jak's shoulder. Best perch ever. "Got anything interesting to talk about, Vin?"

"Other than the hack job you did of trying to decode my encryption key?" Vin glared at Dax, a muscle in his cheek jumping. "Maybe. Some interesting readings off the synthetic light eco in the lab."

Dax felt kind of like someone had walloped him upside the head with a dead fish. Jak looked like he felt the same way.

"You _made_ light eco? In a lab?"

"Sort of." Vin poked at a keyboard, then moved to a different part of what Dax suspected was really just one giant computer. "For a few seconds."

Jak shook his head, and followed after the technician. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the eco fused exactly as expected, but then collapsed into its components. Completely unstable."

"But it was light eco?" Dax asked.

"According to my readings."

"Do you think it'd be able to- to..." To fix him? Fix Jak?"

Vin's expression was suddenly, surprisingly, calm and sympathetic. "Turn you back into a human? Possibly. Certainly there are medical theories that hold that light eco might be the key to reversing muscular damage caused by dark eco poisoning, instead of merely halting it." He shrugged, the gesture fast and awkward, and returned to his twitching. "Haven't managed to stabilize the process though, so that'd have to be done first."

Jak gulped, loudly enough that people on the other side of Haven probably heard him. "And... me?"

Vin peered at Jak. "Stabilization first, then laboratory tests. There might be side effects."

"Like what, turning my hair blue?" Dax wondered.

"Like, uh, a one in three percent chance of death. According to my preliminary calculations."

Jak nodded, then looked at Dax. "No."

* * *

"Aw, c'mon Jak, be reasonable?" Damn it, how long was it going to take to deal with the lug? "You still get to wear pants!"

"You want to use yourself as a laboratory animal," Jak said. He sounded like he was on the very limits of his patience and about to lose his temper, but he'd sounded like that for the last _three hours_. Even Vin was ignoring him now.

"Oh, so you'd rather Vin escalated the tests to living subjects in the slums? One of the poor kids got bit by a metal-head bug?"

Jak, because he was a lug, ignored the very reasonable question. "I am not going to let you kill yourself."

"An' I'm not gonna, but you're not listening. It's not like I'm telling Vin to whip up a vat of this synth-eco so I can jump in it-"

"Couldn't even if I would," Vin interjected. He sounded amused, of all things. "I don't have enough supplies for a vat. Maybe a vial."

"-I'm just saying, first time he thinks it's _reasonably_ safe to test it out on a living person-"

"One in three chance of _dying_ isn't reasonable!"

"-that I want him to call me, because-"

"And if you think I'm helping you out in this-"

"-I'm tired of people thinking I'm food!"

"I'll kill them," Jak growled.

Dax sighed. "Or, Vin could test the synth-eco on me after he's run all sorts of fun tests to make sure I won't end up a blue ottsel, or have three heads, or whatever. I miss pants, Jak. I really, really miss pants. And underwear. I'm tired of hanging loose here, buddy."

Well, that got a splutter, at least. And Vin ducked to hide behind something appallingly technical.

Jak gave him a dark look, and that had nothing to do with the color of his eyes. "If you miss pants that much, I'm sure Tess would be willing to help you."

"If she could sew, which she can't. Sewed herself to the carpet once, apparently." How that was possible, he didn't know, but the mental image was flat out _hilarious_.

Jak looked down at- and then back up. "Dax," he said, and now he sounded patient and tired and not even annoyed any more, how fair was that? "Dax, did becoming an ottsel make you a eunuch?"

Dax squawked, and then leapt for Jak's horns. "I'll eunuch you!"

"Hey!"

The sound of the door opening froze them both. Vin, poor, paranoid man that he was, had very loud door chimes, and they all went off at once.

Jak ducked down behind a handy... thing... and they peered around the edge.

Sig looked far, far too amused. "Cherries," he said. "Finally found you."

Dax blinked and shrugged. "Where else did you look?"

"Your apartment, mine, Hip Hog, the Underground... Now here. And here you are." He grinned at Vin, who pecked desperately at a keyboard, then waved at the both of them. "Chili pepper, anyone tell you subtle ain't your style?"

Jak hunched his shoulders. "Sorry."

"Eh. Here, it's got a hood." And Sig dumped a dark blue sweater with- yes- a hood- on Jak's head.

It took a bit of work, but they managed to get everything in place, Jak's mod-gun and small pack overtop the sweater. The hood up looked slightly odd, but not as much as Dax had feared. If it'd been the height of summer or something, it would've been weird, but it was edging towards fall, so no one looked twice at the short man keeping his ears (uncomfortably bent back) warm.

"We'll find you a hat, too," Sig promised.

"So, what're you looking for us for?"

"Besides how unsubtle you boys were today?" Sig slung an arm around Jak's shoulders, and Dax braced for an outburst of violence. Jak certainly tensed up- but then, weirdly, he relaxed. And when Dax peered around the hood, he saw Jak looked- confused. Calm and relaxed, but very confused.

_Subconscious acting up?_ It was about time Jak realized Sig wasn't a threat.

"Yeah, besides that," Dax said, drawing attention away from Jak's silence. Not that it was a new thing for him to do.

"Got a job from Krew. Help me out, I'll split the take. _And_ it'll get you an in with Krew on your own merit, he's the kingpin of the city's underbelly. He'll be able to help you get places an' act against the Baron."

Jak grinned and flexed his fingers a little at that. "Alright. What're we helping with?"

"Hunting metal-heads."

* * *

_Hello, all! Chapter's up, still on a Monday, and I've got news for you._

_First, this November is what's affectionately called NaNoWriMo- or National Novel Writing Month. Thanks to my night shift job, I won't be able to participate fully, however I intend to get as much of Monster written this coming month as I possibly can. Since The third arc _is_ completely plotted out, that shouldn't be too hard._

_However, I'm not going to post during November, while I focus on the writing. I'm sorry, but thems the breaks. Hopefully I'll have a bucket load of chapters (even, dare I say it, have reached the plot twist three-fifths of the way through?) ready for the first Monday in December._

_And someone- sorry, I can't remember who you are- asked if I was setting this story up to be slash. I have absolutely no problems with slash, but no. Any slash is going to be of background characters, if they're important enough that time is spent dwelling on their relationships._

_Also, if I haven't already done it, the second genre of this story is going to be Romance._


	20. Act 3, Chapter 7

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Seven**

Sig deliberately flicked a chunk of metal-head off his shoulder guard. "Y'know, chili pepper, I'm starting to think you don't like me."

Jak looked down at his feet. "It's not that," he protested, though admittedly he did want to take the occasional swing at Sig. Then again, he wanted to take the occasional swing at everyone- except Dax. Dax was special.

A bit more annoying than he remembered, but there w_as_ something behind the tired phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder".

"Yeah, well, next time maybe no crazy, yeah? I'm starting to rethink my idea of sparring you."

Sparring? "Are you crazy?"

Sig's grin was answer enough, and it showed way too many teeth. "How's you, cherry?"

Dax groaned. Jak looked at him from the corner of his eye, but the ottsel didn't look any worse. Not any better- but projectile vomiting wasn't fun, and getting hit with a bolt of dark eco kind of made that sort of thing inevitable. At least Dax hadn't been burned or anything. The eco seemed to have done nothing worse than crackle over his fur and give him a really upset stomach.

"Not dead," Jak murmured, looking away to hide a grin. Dax would be fine, and complaining, in no time.

"You got control problems," Sig pointed out, before turning and hefting his trophy. Jak scowled at it, but followed after Sig.

"I know."

"Maybe you should be talking to someone about that?"

"Who?" Samos was... gone. And Dax... Dax was just as lost as he was, really, when it came to this sort of thing. Jak sure as hell wasn't going to talk to any Havenite, because who knew how that'd go over? He'd heard the gossip on the street. They were calling him a monster now.

"Seem's always good for a listen. Smart cookie, too." Sig dropped the metal-head off with the other two they'd bagged, and scowled. "Jinx'll be by with the transport. Look, if you want to talk to Seem, well... Dax, you remember how to get to the transport?"

"Hate running outside the wall," Dax mumbled, but at least he was talking. "Seem's good people."

Dax had said that before. "You think she'd talk to me?"

"Ain't no reason why not," Sig said. "She's a student of eco theory. Me, I think it's all magic, but her? She's getting the science of it. Can even channel, a little, that's why she's a monk."

"Huh." That was... an option. Jak raised his eyebrows at Dax, who sighed.

"Look, it's not like I know her that well, but... yeah. Sig's right, she's smart, and who knows. She might know why you keep flying off the handle and can't..."

Can't... oh. Right. Jak knew he _should_ be able to change how he looked, suppress the alterations the dark eco had made on him, but he just couldn't figure out _how_.

"I suppose it can't hurt. And it'll let things in the city calm down."

Sig's shoulders seemed to relax, though it was hard to tell with the armor in the way. "Good. Here, take this and there won't be any arguments." He handed over a kind of bracelet, though he fished it out of a belt pouch, not off his wrist. There was an odd sort of charm hung on it, a kind of stretched out diamond-shaped piece of... plastic, maybe. It glistened in the sun like an oil slick.

"I'll let Torn know you boys will be out of town. Then I gotta nother job for Krew- turrets in the sewers." Sig's sigh was only partly for show. "Place makes my armor stink up something awful, but there's no better way to smuggle necessaries through checkpoints."

Jak wondered, a little, why Sig was talking about the sewers- but maybe because it was possible Krew would later ask Jak to do the same.

Although, going by the way Dax shuddered and made quiet gagging sounds on his shoulder, Jak figured it might've just been an in-joke between the two of them.

And that... annoyed him. A lot. Dax was _his_ friend, and-

-he was getting angry again. Jak gave Dax the odd bracelet, and his friend promptly slipped it around his neck and started admiring the thing. Sig rolled his eye, and jerked his thumb towards the wall. "Get going, you two."

Jak mock-saluted, and jogged off. Dax snapped out of admiring himself, and gave quiet directions around the shallow curve of the wall towards an outcropping of rock several hundred meters distant. It was big enough to hide the transport apparently used by Sig- and any other Wastelanders in Haven- as a means of getting back to their desert sanctuary. The transport was there, and five Wastelanders in armor similar to Sig's were having coffee around a small campfire.

All five looked up at Jak's approach, and as one, they scowled.

Dax stood up and flashed the odd charm bracelet at them. "We got a pass from Sig. Heading to the Temple. Flying our way, boys?"

The five Wastelanders grumbled, and did some odd, fist shaking thing to decide who got to drive. At least, Jak figured that was it. One of the men apparently made the wrong symbol; he cursed, just quietly enough Jak couldn't make the words out entirely- something about goats? Or hogs, maybe- and then stomped over to the transport.

"Well, get in," he said, and suited action to words by lowering the back of the transport.

Jak climbed in, even though his memories of such transport were rarely reliable- and rarely good, either. It was the same sort of model as used by the KG when taking him from prison to outside the wall, only older and a lot more battered.

"Cozy," Dax said, hopping down onto the floor. "Make yourself comfy, Jak. Last time we went out you pro'ly don't remember, but it took a couple of hours."

Jak huffed, and sat down on a bench along one side of the transport. There was a giant dent next to him, as if someone incredibly strong had punched down on it. One of the support struts had pulled away from the wall.

"Huh," Dax said, following his gaze to the dent. "I think you did that."

"Me?" Jak looked down at his hands. Well, he knew he was strong, he just... He didn't like thinking about how much effort it would have taken to do that sort of damage. The bench was made out of durasteel, after all. At least, it looked like it was. And durasteel was the same sort of thing they made KG armor out of, armor that was supposed to stand up to metal-heads. Just a bit heavier.

"You're thinking pretty loudly," Dax observed. He began picking at the fur on his arms. "Ugh, sand. Want to talk about it? Or should we practice our telepathy skills? I think I'm getting rusty."

Jak laughed, a little, and patted one knee. "I'll scratch your back, if you're itchy."

"Great way of not answering my question." Dax climbed up, slowly, obviously using the movement to stretch out his shoulders and spine. "Scratch away, big guy."

Jak concentrated on retracting his claws, first. Only after they were a less lethal length did he start scratching- carefully and _very_ _gently_- along Dax's spine. The ottsel immediately melted into goo.

"Dax, I'm not safe."

There. He'd said it. Jak closed his eyes, and concentrated on his breathing.

"Well, duh. You've never been safe." Dax shifted, and Jak stopped scratching. He looked down. The ottsel was glaring. "There's a large number of lurkers back home that never got any older 'cause you've got one heck of a right hook."

"That's..."

"Different? Not really. Did you know lurkers are held as slaves in Haven? Or that there's a kind of... group, I guess, underground railroad, getting them out of the city? Sure, metal-heads, but freedom too. They're smart. They talk. Gonna have to introduce you to Bruter sometime, he's good people. Gave me some food when I hadn't eaten in a week." Dax sounded obscurely proud, and fond, about the lurker.

Jak's hand twitched. A week without food? "But I was- they were the bad guys. I was stopping them. I saved the world."

"Yes. But you still killed them."

He looked away. He'd been... better, when he'd been younger. Before the dark eco.

"Hey." He felt a tiny paw touch his wrist. "Jak, I'm not saying it was the wrong thing to do. It wasn't. What I _am_ saying is that you haven't changed as much as you think. Only these days you're killing metal-heads, who very much aren't smart, and you're probably in the running for being a Dark Eco Sage. Only without the utter crazy and evil, of course."

"I don't want to be a sage."

"You're missing the point, bud."

"Dax, you don't get it!" Jak turned back and glared. "I was good! Now I'm... not."

Dax sat back and sighed. "I'm sensing self-worth issues here. Yup, there's the definite reek of 'I have low self esteem' wafting from you, big guy."

"This isn't a joke," Jak growled.

"No, it's not. Jak, you're my friend. You're my best friend, and until a few months ago, you've been my only friend, ever. I'm still going to tell you the truth, so listen up." Dax glared, and Jak folded his hands in his lap. "Good. Sometimes, Jak, good people do bad things. Like kill people of other species that're smart. That doesn't make _you_ a bad person. It means that your choices were bad and worse. What would've happened if you hadn't killed those lurkers then, huh? Then we _never_ would've gotten past them and stopped Gol and Maia and the world would've drowned in dark eco, and you probably would've become Maia's kept pretty boy, because I saw how she was looking at you, buddy, it wasn't nice. I'm pretty sure she had a thing for Gol, too, and I really hope I'm misremembering Samos calling them brother and sister, because ew..."

Dax shook his head, and Jak took a moment to try and figure out what had just been said. Kept pretty boy...? "Anyways. Oh, right. So you did some bad things when you were younger, because the other options were worse. That happens. You just gotta do your best, minimize the damage, and be sorry, right? All that stuff Samos would blather on about when we couldn't escape. But Jak, you were a good person then. You're still a good person now. Why'd you think different?"

It was good Dax didn't seem to expect an immediate answer. Jak stared at his hands, the opposite wall, and the ceiling. Why did he feel like he was... dirty?

Dax clearly believed what he'd said. About the lurkers, and everything else.

The lurkers... He supposed that killing them, if Dax was right and they really were intelligent, was wrong. Even if they weren't intelligent, even, because they'd just been following orders, really. Either they were smart and they were doing what they were because Gol and Maia had promised something- or threatened them, maybe- or they weren't smart, and they were more like... like guard dogs. Just doing what they were trained to do. You didn't blame a croca-dog for biting you if it was guarding something and you tried to get at it. Or at least, you didn't if you weren't the one bitten.

So yes, he supposed he hadn't done a good thing, killing the lurkers, even if it'd been the right thing to do.

And he did believe- did remember- that he hadn't thought of himself as a bad person before. He'd been sorry to kill, it hadn't been something he enjoyed. That had changed.

Only...

Wasn't it different? Then, he'd killed lurkers, or those dark-eco twisted _things_ that had started out life as plants and bugs. Now he was killing metal-heads, which were even worse than the eco-twisted bugs, which had been pretty bad to start with.

It wasn't like he was looking for _people_ to kill. Even the KG- when he thought about fighting them, he thought about hurting them. Making them bleed. He only thought about killing the Baron, Erol, and the scientists that had worked on the Dark Warrior project. Most of the scientists were dead already, and not by his claws.

Claws.

Yes, that was a big part of it, wasn't it?

He'd been changed. His very life-codes had been torn apart and put back together in a new way.

Jak reached up and tugged on one horn. "Dax, look at me. I've been... been poisoned by dark eco. I am a monster."

"I don't think you're a monster," Dax said. Softly. Like- like if he spoke loudly, Jak just might clap his hands over his ears and start humming, like he had when they were little kids.

Loud noises had frightened him, then. And Dax had always forgotten to keep his voice down.

"You're biased."

"I'm really kind of not." Dax stood up to his full height- which meant his head was still nowhere near the level of Jak's shoulders. "I'm with you all the time. I've seen you at your worst. You've only ever seen the aftermath.

"You're not the monster you think you are. You're angry, you're dangerous, you're one hell of a fighter- but if people back away, you don't follow. You don't torture them, you don't kill 'em slow. It's fast. It's bloody. And it's only people who attack you first. You never touched women and children, and you didn't hurt Sig.

"When you go away, when all that's left is rage and pain and fear? You're protecting yourself. If they left you alone? You'd hide, and wouldn't hurt anyone."

Jak shook his head, and looked at his hands again. How could that even be possible?

Dax leaned forward, paws against his chest. "You'll believe me sooner or later, buddy. I know it."

Jak wished he believed him _now_.

* * *

The temple was familiar, and Jak felt himself relax the moment he stepped out of the transport and onto sand-covered rock. The transport took off the moment he was clear, and for a minute he wondered how they'd get back to Haven. There was work still to be done.

Then he shrugged. Seem would know, probably. And if not, she'd know who to ask.

He heard the scuff of a boot on the sand, and turned around. He didn't recognize the monk, but that didn't surprise him.

"If it's possible, I'd like to see Seem," he said, doing his best not to glare, even with the strong sunlight hurting his eyes.

The monk stared at him, long enough Jak felt his skin start to crawl, and then nodded. "Follow me," the monk murmured, then turned and walked into the temple.

"Y'know," Dax murmured. "They need a better costume. Something that'll let you figure out the gender. Don't you think?"

Jak grinned, and followed the monk.

* * *

_Alas, I didn't get as much written as I wanted to. Very sad am I. By the way- don't miss your flu shot. I'm pretty sure my mom was joking about checking my pulse, but what do I know, I was barely able to stay awake for any length of time. Got knocked out for two weeks, give or take a day. Ugh._

_So, did you miss me?_


	21. Act 3, Chapter 8

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Eight**

Dax licked his palm, then slicked the fur between his ears back. He saw Jak grin, and grinned back. Okay, yeah, Seem wasn't anything like the girls Dax had flirted with before (which would be anyone between the ages of thirteen and thirty, so... Keira and that archeologist woman, really) but hey, it paid to make an effort.

The monk led them down several dim hallways, making odd turnings that, to Dax at least, felt like they were going in a circle. He was pretty sure they'd passed the same statue of one of those damn oracle things twice.

_Beware the dark light, for it has twisted the fate of one of you_ indeed. Why couldn't those things have told them _useful_ things? Like _seriously, no shit, stay away from the freaking dark eco, and don't trust anyone wearing red armor._

That would've helped!

_Maybe because prophecy is... well, useless,_ Dax thought, and then shook his head.

The monk stopped in front of a wooden door, which slid to the side, either into or behind the wall. "_Deshi_ Seem will see you here," he said.

Jak walked through the door, which slid closed behind them. They both eyed the door, but it was flimsy wood. _Dax_ could probably find some way of smashing right on through it.

They were in what looked like a small library, or maybe the temple records office. Scrolls were rolled up and tucked into cubbyholes. One had been left out on the only table in the middle of the room, held open with stone weights at each corner. The weights were, surprise, surprise, in the shape of the funky oracle things.

"Y'know, I thought we were done with oracles," Dax said, jumping down onto the table. He studied the nearest weight without touching it. "Wonder what they did with all them precursor egg-things anyways."

"Precursor orbs," Jak corrected, leaning over to look at the scroll. He made a face and shuffled around the table. "It was upside down," he said, when Dax raised his eyebrows.

"No, now you're looking at it upside down," Dax said.

Jak- carefully!- pointed a clawed finger at one symbol. "No, this is right side up. See?"

Dax peered at the scroll, then moved so he was looking at it 'sideways', and huffed. "What kinda crap writing is this? Which way's up?"

They were puzzling over the scroll when Seem walked in. The door slid to the side with a snap, jolting both of them out of their concentration far better than a gunshot would have.

Seem was, clearly, upset about something. Her eyes glittered in a way that made Dax, at least, nervous. The last time he'd seen someone look at him like that, he'd been chased through the village by the Bird Lady, with a broom.

"Why do you come here?" Seem asked.

"Need to talk to you," Dax replied, since Jak seemed struck speechless. Yeah, Dax was more used to women being angry with him than Jak was.

Though that might change, now. Hard to rely on the ol' baby blues when they were now black.

Eeesh.

"You could not have contacted me first?" Seem swept the both of them with her glare. Red eyes were really freaky, especially when they were angry.

"Sorry, babe, didn't think of it." Dax flattened his ears down, and did his best to look, well, apologetic.

"There are enough difficulties without you adding to them," Seem muttered, but the apology seemed to have done its job. "However, you are here now. Why?"

"Sig thought it a good idea Jak talked to you about control problems," Dax said, and grinned. Seem couldn't have looked more surprised if he'd slapped her in the face with a fish pie.

"Me?" she asked, but this was Jak's show. He could talk on his own now. He couldn't have Dax putting words in his mouth anymore.

"You," Dax said, then jumped off the table and walked out the door.

* * *

Jak swallowed, and stared at the open door. "Uh, Seem," he began.

She cut him off by rolling the scroll back up. "It is a different writing than you are used to," she said. "And you were looking at it upside down."

He was pretty sure he hadn't been. "Sorry for just barging in," he offered.

"It is of no account." Seem also glanced at the door, then moved to close it. She stood, one hand on the door, the other holding the scroll. She ended up leaving the door open just enough for a skinny ottsel to squeeze through, if he wanted. "So. You wish to speak to me of control."

"I almost killed Sig. Dax says it wasn't like that, but... I kind of went a little... crazy. In a fight."

Seem frowned at him. "I see. You fear you will hurt him?"

"It's not like I know what I'm doing when I blank out like that." Jak sat down. He wasn't the tallest guy in the room, but he was still taller than Seem, and his impulse was apparently to hunch over. Since he didn't want to look like a caveman... at least sitting down, his body didn't want to curl up in a ball.

"Do you trust your friend? Dax."

Jak was nodding before she finished speaking. "He says I'm not dangerous if people don't attack me first. And I do trust him." He smiled, almost. "I'm just not sure I _believe_ him. He's... good at lying. And he would. To protect me."

"And yet," Seem murmured. She sat down across from him. "I am not... accustomed to speaking with people of their difficulties."

"It's fine. I've already had the lecture from Dax. Just... have you any ideas how I can _not_ go crazy?"

Her lips twitched in what might have been a smile. If he squinted and tilted his head sideways. "You fear insanity?"

"Well, yes." He huffed. "Seem, I know I'm crazy right now. I spent two... almost three years in prison being tortured. That's not the sort of thing that keeps a person sane. But there's functioning crazy, which I probably am, and kill-it-dead crazy, which I don't want to be. And I've met... a while back, I met two dark eco sages, and they were definitely kill-it-dead crazy."

She nodded, and traced one finger along the grain of the wood table. "It is the nature of dark eco to change. Your own appearance reflects this." Seem tapped her finger, once, and then flattened her hand against the wood. "Yet you need not lose who you are. I cannot help you, for this is beyond my experience, but I will send you to my first teacher. Perhaps there, you will find the help you seek. I am sorry that it cannot be found with me."

Jak frowned. "Seem... can you at least give me a hint?"

She didn't even hesitate before brushing the tips of her fingers over his hand. "Everyone has their fears, dark one. Everyone has terrors that send them into mindless panic. Overcome those fears, and you will overcome the possibility you will be a mindless beast."

Jak sighed, and shook his head. That... Well, actually it was helpful, and exactly the sort of thing Samos would've said. "Thanks. So, this teacher?"

"In the water slums of Haven." She actually smiled when he gaped at her. "Yes, I am from that city. I was pleased to leave it behind me. I will give the actual address to Dax, who no doubt is better at finding such places than you."

"Well, he's been on the streets longer than me," Jak agreed.

All they had to do now, was wait for Dax to get back.

Jak didn't mind waiting. He had a lot to think about.

* * *

Dax paused, smoothed his fur back down, and sauntered back into the library. Thank the Precursors for a) giving ottsel-him a nose capable of following his own scent trail back to the beginning and b) giving ottsel-him a good enough turn of speed he could outrun most things looking to eat him. Especially overweight freaks like the one he'd lost five corners back.

Not nearly enough distance, thank you very much. Time to retreat to safety, and Jak's shoulder. Very much so.

"Hey, boys'n'girls, did you miss me?"

Jak and Seem both turned to look at him, and Dax grinned. Nope, not nervous at all, not even when Jak looked all calculating.

"Do you know where..." Jak frowned, and Seem rattled off an address.

Dax blinked. "Water slum in Haven?" he offered. Yeah, that... Not that he'd been there too much, but he was pretty sure some of the 'free the lurkers!' movement had a couple bolt holes down there, Bruter had talked about it once...

"I have little advice for Jak," Seem said. "My teacher may have more."

"Oh. Huh! Yeah, okay." Seem had needed taught? Well, he shouldn't have been surprised. "Thanks. Do we need a letter of introduction or something?"

Seem's lips... curved. Up. Like an actual, full out smile, even if it wasn't a grin. "No. My teacher... is unusual. No doubt you will enjoy speaking with... him."

Dax frowned at her, then shrugged. "Well, in that case, we need to get back to Haven."

"It is late. You may stay the night."

* * *

_Yes, I'm sorry, this is short. I rewrote the chapter twice- needless to say, it didn't cooperate very well. Next chapter is a return to Haven city, and will be posted on the 31st, OR depending on how the last two weeks go, January 14th. I'm working five days a row for two weeks- ten hour shifts. We'll see how that works out. Fingers crossed!_


	22. Arc 3, Chapter 9

**Arc the Third: Renegade**  
**Chapter Nine**

Jak rubbed a clawless hand over Dax's fur, which bristled no matter what he did. "It worked," he pointed out.

"This is gonna backfire, just watch," Dax replied. Nevertheless, he moved from his perch on Jak's forearm, and onto the man's shoulder. "Still, I guess you're happy, not having to wear that hood.

The hooded sweater was rather warm, at the moment. "Let's go talk to Torn."

"He'll have something for us." Dax tapped one finger against Jak's temple. "And will probably have a lovely reaction to your new look, too."

Jak grinned, and nodded.

He didn't exactly remember much about the entire... thing, with the oracle. Really, after entering the odd little hut, the last thing he actually remembered was Dax's half-shrieked comment of "I thought we were done with these things!" and the oracle saying "step forward, dark one".

After that... Well, it was hazy. So far Dax hadn't volunteered anything, but the way he was fluffed up like an angry- or panicked- muse-cat probably wasn't a good sign.

Except that it _worked_. He didn't have claws or horns anymore, and he'd checked; his hair was back to blond. His skin and hair were a little paler than they'd been before, and his nails were black and pointed, but he wasn't going to skewer anyone with them. He still had his fangs, though now he could be honest with himself, they were too short to be _real_ fangs. And Dax said his eyes were blue, again.

Jak thought he wasn't so angry, either. That was only to the good.

He wasn't so happy he was bouncing while he walked. That was only to the good.

He passed by several KG, and was relieved that, while he was angry and hated them, he didn't have to curb the impulse to immediately tear into them. If they left him alone... Well, he wouldn't kill them.

Unless it was Erol. He flexed his fingers, and took a deep breath. If he saw Erol? Yeah, he'd kill the man. Attack from behind if he had to, but he really, really wanted to see Erol's face when the man died.

When he realized who'd killed him.

"Hel_lo_, earth to Jak, come in Jak!" Dax rapped on the side of Jak's head. "Hey, big guy, you're going the wrong way!"

"Think we should get a Zoomer?"

"Eh. You're still going the wrong way."

Jak grinned and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Maybe. No one's flinching away."

"Jak." Dax sighed, and leaned forward just enough that they could look each other in the eye. "Torn. We go. Now."

"Bossy." But Dax was always bossy, so it didn't matter. Jak grinned, and turned towards the slums.

* * *

Jak was happy and Dax was completely freaked out.

_Not that a happy Jak is a bad thing,_ he thought. _It's just weird to see that scowl upside down._

He shook his head, and kept an eye out for... anything. Wanted pictures- well, there were a lot. None of them got Jak's good side. In them, he was still wearing that damn prison outfit. No one really looked at the wanted pictures, and Dax could understand that. If you looked, you might see someone you knew, a friend, a neighbor, yourself.

No one looked at Jak, either. He was just another guy, albeit one with a weird pet on his shoulder.

_And I just used the world 'albeit', even if only mentally. Better be careful, Dax, you can't be a simple country boy with that vocabulary._

They were in the slums, now, and something in him relaxed at the now-familiar environment. Soon, they'd be in the Underground, where at least things made sense. Get orders from Torn, go out and sabotage whatever the Baron's working on, maybe one of these days they'd actually take the fucker down.

None of that metaphysical claptrap nonsense the Oracle had spouted off, right before zapping Jak with more dark eco. Or pulling it out, maybe. Whichever it'd been, it had to have been painful. There were screams.

When it finished, Jak had kind of... flickered, like someone had access to the guy's internal light switch and turned it on and off half a dozen times in a single second. After that, poof, Jak's almost normal again.

Still not quite right, but able to walk down a street without having to hide his face.

At least now they didn't have to rely on citizens being stupid, unobservant, or thinking he was dying slowly by eco poisoning.

_Still. Why do I have the feeling this isn't going to last?_

Dax barely noticed their entrance into the Underground HQ. Torn's greeting caught his attention.

"What the-" Dax managed to dodge the thrown knife, just. "Hey!"

Jak roared, and lunged. Dax was almost knocked off his shoulder. Absently, Dax realized Jak had gone back to 'normal', including horns and claws, but that was shoved aside in favor of yanking on a handful of hair.

Jak hissed, and backed off the desk. Dax glanced over at Torn, but the man appeared blasé, scowling and twirling a second knife around his fingers.

"Okay, Jak, just calm down. Torn's an idiot, but at least he's got bad aim. There you go, calm down buddy."

"Bad aim?" Torn muttered. Dax figured he was the only one to hear it.

Jak continued to hiss, but at least he wasn't killing anyone, so it was all good. Dax tugged on one ear, and shook his head. "Hey, Torn?"

"What, rat?"

"Maybe, yell at us next time?"

Dax watched as Jak's skin flushed, and his hair gradually darkened to an extremely pale blond. Only the roots were near the proper color, a dark green, with a suggestion of gray. The goatee was the same color, and Dax made a mental note to buy Jak some sort of shaving kit. It was just wrong, that someone could only grow hair on a small part of their chin.

"Neat trick," Torn said, once Jak was finished turning back to normal. "Could've used some warning."

"Yeah, the knife told us that." Dax jumped down onto the desk. At least now he knew how the whole 'normal' thing would bite them in the butt. Jak was normal only so long as he wasn't angry. Fair enough.

Jak wrenched the knife out of the wall, and frowned at it. "I really don't want to give this back."

"I've got more." Torn tucked the one he was playing with back... wherever. Dax didn't want to look too closely, because he honestly didn't care. "What do you want?"

"Something to do." Jak shrugged one shoulder, then stabbed the knife down into the desk. "Obviously, I can walk around a bit better now."

"That will be useful." Torn leaned back in his chair, and turned to study his wall art map thing. "The Baron has set up some turrets in the sewers-"

"Eh, no, buddy of ours is already going after those." Dax flattened his ears. No sewers. "Sig. So you know he's good for it."

Torn grunted in reply. After a minute he spoke again. "Vin's at the strip mine and panicking. Go watch him."

Dax nodded, and jumped back onto Jak's shoulder.

"Vin?" Jak frowned. "The guy you talked to about turning you back into a human?"

Dax ignored Torn's raised eyebrows, and prodded Jak's cheek. "Less talk, more walk. High ho, high ho, it's off to work we go."

Jak grinned, and headed to the door.

* * *

_For some reason, this was a really hard chapter to write. Still, it's written. I'm hoping that sooner or later my writing mojo will return and I'll be giving you longer chapters._

_In personal news, I lost my job- not enough work. Might be this has something to do with my writing being difficult... But I've got a line on a day job in the New Years, so fingers crossed everyone! _


	23. Important Note

Alright, I'm going to appologize to everyone, but Monster's going on haitus and I don't know when I'll be posting again.

My dog, who is fourteen years old, has failing health. It's pretty bad- we thought we'd have to put him down last week, but he rallied. However, he is an old, old man, and I just don't know if he'll make it to the end of the month when he can barely get up and down stairs.

I do intend to finish this story. I have it all plotted out.

But as of right now, my personal life, my emotions, is not giving me the time or energy to write fanfic. What time and energy I do have to spare, I'll be putting towards my original novel, but I don't see that going anywhere right now either.

I know everyone was looking forward to a new chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to say "my dog's doing just fine" and be posting again soon. Or it might be a few months. I don't know.

Yours truely,

Kayasuri-n


End file.
